


scum shit, dumb shit

by winterkillz



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Assassin Bucky Barnes, Assassination, At least in the comics, Avengers AU, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Clint Barton & Kate Bishop Friendship, Deaf Clint Barton, M/M, Minor Kate Bishop/America Chavez, implied killing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25578931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterkillz/pseuds/winterkillz
Summary: Clint Barton, alias Hawkeye. An Avenger. A hero.Bucky Barnes, alias Winter Soldier. A hitman. A go-to assassin-for-hire.Two unlikely housemates.A life-saver and a killer. Now the catch is, they don’t know that.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 63
Kudos: 165





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [durinsreign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/durinsreign/gifts).



> title inspired by [drew's](https://twitter.com/clintbvton/status/1283558864965627904?s=20) edit which honestly kept me going fjksdjfk the title is thy mission!
> 
> if you are curious about the text format, it's a [work skin](https://archiveofourown.org/series/458134) from this series.

People think because of their job, the Avengers would be rich as hell, maybe live in a luxury $4000 worth studio with a built-in jacuzzi and its own balcony. _No._ Maybe Tony Stark, but Clint Barton isn’t Tony Stark. He’s in his cramped, over-priced New York apartment, currently struggling to pay the rent because he’s got no housemate to share it with. It’s funny because he has posted about needing someone on every website he knows on the internet but no one bites, whether it’s because of dog allergies or the fact that he _did_ mention that it gets messy at times because he couldn’t maintain the house due to his “wonky work schedule.” He can’t possibly keep that part a secret or else he’ll lose person after person when they find out later on. He just had someone with him recently, but he guessed the last straw was when his dog Lucky chewed on her grandiose, 500-dollar Dior leather bag. She moved out a couple of weeks ago and now he has to find someone before the end of the month, which is… tomorrow. Nobody knows about the entire Avengers’ true identities but themselves, so he can’t really get a hero discount or something from his landlord.

He wishes Tony would at least pay for half of the rent. Besides being Iron Man, he owns this huge international tech company. Maybe he could, if he asked. He had never asked. 

Clint sits up from the couch to reach his phone from the coffee table which alerts Lucky beside him. He feels _pathetic_ , but Tony’s a friend. They’ve known each other for about ten years now, been teammates for about six. He taps the contacts and stares at Tony’s profile for an entire twenty seconds, still debating regardless, the TV in the background flashing a photo of the Avengers captioned: IS IT TIME?

 _“Senator Henry Stern’s death this morning caused a disturbance in his neighborhood in Coto de Caza, Orange County. The senator was found by his wife_ shot dead _in his kitchen at 6:34AM. He was presumed dead_ hours _before the discovery. No gunshots were heard. With the increasing cases of public figure killings over the month, should the authorities transfer the responsibility to the Avengers? Are they–”_

An unknown number pops up.

347-863-0688  
  
Hello? Is this Clint Barton?  
  
Yes it is, who’s this?  
  
You posted in roomster.com with your number on it. Was wondering if it’s still available??  
  


Clint’s eyebrows raise at the text, almost jumping up from the couch in disbelief. _Someone_ actually wants to live with him? He breathes in and replies before this angel could change their mind and fly away. 

Yes it’s still available! Are you sure??? Have you read the full post?? I’ve got a dog and I’m honestly pretty messy, I got work in unusual hours and stuff   
  
Yeah I’m sure, I’m pretty much the same, I work irregular hours. I’m ok with cleaning up the house when you’re not around  
  
Cool. When are you moving in?   
ASAP like can I move in tonight? I don’t have much with me anyway  
  


Tonight. _Tonight._

Clint is baffled, but in a good way. He must’ve done something in his past life for whatever godly-being is there to bless him like this. He has to start cleaning up right now and prepare.

Holy shit. Yeah you can move in tonight give me a couple of hours to clean up  
Give me like til 10pm??  
Sure. I’m coming from Baltimore anyway. Thanks  


Is this person suspicious? Yes. Does Clint care? Meh, he’s seen worse things. Is he happy he doesn’t have to pay full $2000? Hell yeah. Now with about three hours to spare, he’s gotta clean the house before his new housemate comes.

On the other hand, Bucky Barnes isn’t really good with keeping people either. Working as an assassin-for-hire, he’s got pretty shady stuff going on in his life, and previous housemates didn’t like that. He wasn’t exactly obvious about it because if he were he wouldn’t be a successful assassin, but he thinks it’s _him_ in general that gives it away. The aura, the _vibe_ , as other people say. People don’t really like to be around him, so now he has to see if his new housemate won’t kick him out within the span of four days. He’s used to it though. Right now he’s staying in his sister’s house who can’t really know about his real job either. 

“Hey Reb, thanks for letting me stay for the day.” Bucky peeks out from the kitchen arch while Rebecca and her family are having dinner. He had just finished taking a nap, he had to be up early today. _Really_ early. 

Rebecca puts her utensils down and frowns upon seeing the bags her older brother is carrying. “Already? Did you find a new apartment? _Please_ don’t tell me you’re sleeping in a crappy motel again, James.”

He shifts the bag in his shoulder awkwardly, smiling apologetically at his nephew who jumps off his seat to hug his dear uncle’s leg. Bucky kneels down to be eye-level with him, dropping his athlete bag full of money and disassembled weapons to the side. He always carries his cash payments when he moves because he can’t obviously open a bank account, keeping more than half of it safe under the hidden compartment in Rebecca’s guest room where he would stay.

“Hey buddy. Go finish your dinner.”

“You said we’re playing softball tomorrow? Are you leaving?” Charles, Rebecca’s seven-year-old, pouts. He’s the fondest of Bucky among his sister’s two kids. He couldn’t just find out that his sweet uncle who takes him to the ice cream place kills politicians for a living.

Bucky ruffles the boy’s light brown hair and kisses the top of his head goodbye. “Sorry, Charlie. Uncle has to go for now. Promise we’ll play another time.”

It doesn’t work on Charles anymore though. Instead, he harrumphs really loud to express his disappointment, crosses his arms and runs upstairs. Bucky’s heart tears into pieces while Rebecca’s husband chases after the kid. 

Rebecca stands up from her seat and so does Bucky, heaving a sigh as he picks his bag up again. She pats Bucky on his cheek, smiling. Rebecca never asked why Bucky hops from place to place, or why he never tells her his job despite only having each other. Ever since they were kids, her brother had been very private of his personal matters, but he never failed to take care of her no matter what the circumstance is. All she knows is he’s got her and she’s got him, and that’s enough.

“You’re always welcome here, okay?” Rebecca reassures just in case.

Bucky knows that. He nods and goes in for a hug. “I know. Thank you. I’ll repay you one day.”

Technically, Bucky _could_ repay Rebecca at least two times the amount he owes her for letting him stay. The problem is he doesn’t want to give her the money he earns from _killing._ Not anymore. She doesn’t deserve that. He’s been thinking of getting a decent job for _once_ but what can he do? This is all he’s good at. Weapons. Working for rich men who want to kill other rich men. Being bound by contracts to them, always warning him about the consequences that will affect his family if he refuses even just once. He couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, not _yet_ , at least.

Bucky steps away and kisses his three-year-old niece’s head as well, who is very happily crushing her potatoes with her spoon. He turns to Rebecca again. “Tell Charles I’m sorry. I’ll be back with a new toy truck.”

Rebecca jounces her head and allows Bucky to pass by her and to the front door. “I will. Take care of yourself, will you?”

His sister doesn’t know, but Bucky needed that. “I’ll try.” He simply answers, then heads out.

It’s quarter to 10 and Clint had _just_ finished cleaning. He hasn’t cleaned the apartment for so long, he’s sure his neighbors are mad at him for vacuuming at this hour of the night. Now to wait for his new housemate, realizing that he never even asked for their name. Maybe he should text them again? Just when he plops himself on the couch, the doorbell rings.

The exterior looked nice, Bucky thought. Better than any other place he had stayed at except for Rebecca’s. He rocks on his heels as he waits for Clint Barton to open the door, counting the golden pieces of fur scattered in the mat. When the door swings open, Bucky looks up, and Clint _gulps_.

Why would the first thing that runs in Clint’s mind be _oh no, he’s cute_? You can’t ask him because he has no goddamn clue either, and now he’s embarrassed, even though he thankfully didn’t say that out loud. He didn’t know it was gonna be a guy, not that he expected a girl. He’s a tad shorter than him, probably reaching below his ears. Long brown hair tied up in a half bun and a _tired_ look in his face. Hazel eyes and if you study them enough, you’ll notice the blue rings. That’s the only time it clicks in Clint’s head that this guy may have had a long day already and he’s here blocking his way, staring at him like he’s seen God. _Close_ , to Clint’s standards, at least. 

“Shit, sorry. Here, let me help.” Clint finally moves and offers a hand to carry Bucky’s sports bag, but Bucky swiftly sways it away. Clint’s sure he’s not leaving a good first impression for invading Bucky’s bubble. 

“I’m good, thanks. Where’s my room?” Bucky asks straightforwardly. He has to admit that he’s curious about this guy’s endless bandages though. A butterfly on his left eyebrow, three strips on the rest of his face, to name a few. A boxer? It’s a shame though, minus all the jazz in his beaten mug, this guy would look decent.

Clint steps away. He swears this guy sounded friendlier through text. “Right across the hall, to the left. It’s uh–”

Bucky strides past him, not even looking around to notice how clean the apartment is, and goes straight to his room.

“–cleaned. For you.” Clint trails his words, then frowns. He takes _everything_ back. This guy’s a prick. Lucky finally comes out of Clint’s room, wagging his tail towards Bucky’s new room to sniff, then to Clint. 

Bucky throws his backpack to the floor and his sports bag over the bed. He walks across the room and listens to how the floorboard creaks, already thinking about putting his extra money and possibly weapons underneath tomorrow when Clint isn’t around. The room isn’t too small nor too big; the closet has enough space for his clothes which isn’t many to begin with. He’s _dying_ to take his boots off already. He notices Clint standing by his door from his peripheral vision, so he turns.

“Are there any house rules?” Bucky asks again, briefly looking over to the dog’s collar to read ‘Lucky’ then back to Clint. Bucky is aware that he doesn’t sound as welcoming to Clint as he was to his family but he thinks that’s the right thing to do. He can’t get friendly, can’t get attached. Can’t get _others_ attached.

“No,” Clint answers. That means yes for Bucky to peel off the wooden floor. “You can put up stuff on the wall if you have posters or pictures or whatever. We don’t have a lawn or backyard as you can see, so no mowing responsibilities at all. We have a little empty planting bed outside though if you’re into those kinda stuff. I’m not, so…” 

“Well, I have rules.” Bucky starts, catching Clint off guard. “First, don’t come inside my room _ever._ Knock. If you hear noises from me inside, don’t bother. If you need something from me, it’s better to message or call me first whether I’m in my room or not.”

Clint pulls his lower lip out as he shrugs. Oof, _so_ private. Luckily he’s not the type to snoop around someone else’s room. Besides, he wouldn’t want _anyone_ to go in his room and see his Hawkeye costume laying on his bean bag anyway. Golden rule, don’t do unto others what you don’t want done unto you.

“...I’ll take care of my own laundry, so no need to offer to take them. And _don’t_ eat _my_ food. Pretty common knowledge for housemates.”

Bucky stares at Clint and Clint could feel his gaze shoot through his bones. What’s with this guy?

“If you say so.” Clint decides.

“Okay.” Bucky simply says. “Good night.”

Right. It’s sleeping time for normal people. Not for Clint who has to stay alert all the time for emergencies, and certainly not for Bucky who’s the same for his clients. A life-saver and a killer. Now the catch is, they don’t know that.

Both of them stood in an uncomfortable silence for almost 60 seconds until Bucky closed the door unprompted. Clint blinks. Bucky opens it again.

“Bucky.” 

“Excuse me?”

A beat. 

“My name is Bucky. Good night, Clint.”

The door closes again, and the light inside the room turns off.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint woke up to no emergencies, no nothing. The sunshine seeps through his room’s soft violet curtains and Lucky’s snout is already buried in his neck, waiting for him to wake up. He groans and flips over, so Lucky just _dives_ onto him, sending him into a laughter fit. Ah, mornings.

Clint shuffles out of his room, a hand underneath his Crush Grape Soda t-shirt. He immediately goes to the kitchen to make coffee, as per usual, then would go to the pantry to get some bread while the coffee brews. He swivels and sees Bucky standing three feet behind him, just staring.

“Jesus fuck–” Clint yells, then it sinks in that Bucky doesn’t seem to know. 

Bucky comes forward and starts speaking inaudibly. _I said good morning,_ Clint reads from his lips. _Hope you’re not–_ then it cuts, because Bucky turns around to get himself something from the pantry. Clint goes back to his room quickly, much to Bucky’s confusion because he was still speaking. 

Clint comes back, carefully attaching his hearing aids in both ears. He had Tony upgrade them recently, now they’re smaller, less noticeable. All he needs is to take care of them when he removes them at night or else they’d be harder to find. Bucky realizes this and figures out why he didn’t notice them last night, besides the fact that he wasn’t paying attention.

Bucky didn’t really bring food with him last night, and given that he had laid out the rules about Clint not eating his food, he shouldn’t take whatever Clint has in the pantry. “You’re…” He says and trails off, leaning against the counter instead. 

“Yup. Sensorineural.” Clint walks over to where Bucky was and gets himself the loaf of bread he wanted. “I don’t usually put them on in the mornings ‘cause I don’t really need them ‘til a couple of hours. What were you saying?”

The Oreo cereal looks _awfully_ tempting though.

“Sorry, didn’t know.” Bucky thinks of omitting the good morning. “I was saying, hope you’re not mad at me last night. Was just a little tired, ‘s all.” He’s half-lying, but he wants to get on Clint's good side. If one day the police busts their doors open, maybe Clint would let him go.

“That’s fine. We all have our days. Besides, it was a three-hour drive for you, wasn’t it?” Clint waves the bag with a smile. “You want yours toasted? I got some Nutella and strawberry jam if you’d like.” He proceeds to the toaster, looking over his shoulder when Bucky doesn't answer.

Bucky was staring. Again. Clint gets the creeps every time; he can’t imagine that he has to live with this guy from now on. 

“I’ll be fine.” Bucky finally speaks, so Clint shrugs it off. “Are you leaving today?”

Clint forgot about that. He checks his phone, _one new message._

Tony  
  
Meeting at 1. Avengers HQ.  
  


“Apparently. I’ll be gone at 12.” It’s almost 11. They should be eating lunch by now, which reminds Clint to feed Lucky. Must’ve been why he jumped at him earlier. There’s approximately three and a half minutes til his coffee’s done brewing. He walks towards where he usually keeps the dog food and the dog follows him enthusiastically. “Sorry pal, no pizza today.” 

Lucky whimpers out.

Bucky wonders if the last sentence was directed at him. Nevertheless, he disregards the statement and lurches himself forward and off the counter. At least Clint leaves today. That’s good news. 

“‘Kay. I’ll stay in today.” No job _yet_. Boss was pretty happy with his work yesterday though. While they slept soundly knowing their political rival is dead, it was another sleepless night for Bucky. “Looks like I don’t need to clean the house, huh?”

“Finally! You’ve noticed.” Clint grins as he springs upwards from feeding Lucky. “Squeaky clean. I made sure even the corners got vacuumed well. The mould on the bathroom window…”

“Yeah, the neighbors actually stopped by this morning. You weren’t awake so I had to answer the door. Said you owe them one for keeping them up last night.” Bucky goes to the coffee machine and pours the coffee from a nearby mug that says _BLOW ME, I’M HOT_ in a huge font. Bucky raises a brow at the graphic before taking a sip, letting his tongue hang because of the temperature. It sure _is_ hot.

“Aw, that’s mine!” Clint jogs back to the kitchen to get his precious coffee from Bucky’s hand, huffing a breath onto the cup before drinking. “Shoo. Go get your own. Top cupboard, to the right.” 

Bucky laughs, and Clint swears this might just make him forgive Bucky for being an asshole last night. The dimples on both sides… Clint shakes his head and hides his face in the drink, turning away to Lucky who’s happily eating. Bucky does what Clint says and reaches for the cupboard, with Clint just noticing Bucky’s gloved left hand. Only his left, which Clint found odd, but doesn’t dare to bring up — neither the fact that Bucky wears long sleeves in the middle of summer. 

“Well, I better go and shower.” Clint shrugs, placing his now empty mug on the sink. Bucky blinks at how fast he downed _fresh_ coffee. “You can wash the dishes if you’re bored. Oh! The toasts are yours. I put two.”

Bucky sips his coffee and watches Clint go to the washroom, wondering if he could get used to whatever this is.

Clint leaves the apartment a little early. He teaches Bucky about what Lucky’s likes and dislikes are just in case he starts bothering the poor man while he’s out. Tony didn’t tell him to suit up but he brings his costume in his backpack anyway. 

The Avengers Headquarters is very discreet. It’s hovering above Central Park, concealed by reflective mirrors outside the ship. Clint doesn’t know how it stays up and doesn’t really ask Tony, as long as it doesn’t crash he’s content. There’s no other way to go up there but ride something else that flies, so he usually hitches a ride from one of his teammates, whoever’s free. Today, it’s Natasha — the Black Widow.

“‘Sup, Nat.” Clint waves at Natasha who’s sitting under a parasol, sporting her red Ray Ban sunglasses with a smile. They normally meet at this café, the nearest in the park. She has her motorcycle parked right beside her; it’s disguised as an ordinary one but it was built by Tony with jet turbines and hydraulic actuators. She slurps her iced cappuccino as Clint sits across with a sigh.

“You’ve any idea what’s going on?” Clint asks, putting his feet up above the railing. 

“No, Tony didn’t tell me anything.” Natasha takes her glasses off and rests both her arms on the table, leaning herself towards Clint. “I’ve got a feeling though.”

“What?” Clint frowns, snatching the drink from Natasha to take a swig. He crumples his face at the almond milk used. 

“Didn’t you watch the news last night?” Natasha takes her drink back, rolling her eyes at Clint’s expression. “About the killings.”

“Oh,” Clint blinks. “I didn’t really care about Stern, so. Don’t they want us to take over the case though?”

“Yup,” Natasha exhales with a hint of exasperation. “The police are useless.”

Clint scrunches his nose, crinkling the band-aid situated right on the bridge of it. The Avengers aren’t _detectives,_ they’re more like the people you call when there’s an alien warmonger attempting to take over the planet. They’re here for the _bigger_ things. 

Heaving a breath and standing up, Clint leaps over the railing when he could’ve just walked around it. He takes a helmet and puts it on, tossing another to Natasha. “Let’s hear what Tony has to say then.” 

“Right. I’m driving though.” Natasha cracks a smile as Clint slumps his shoulders in disappointment.

“Aw, I really wanna drive this baby for once!”

“ _Nope_.”

Bucky starts setting up the guns he brought with him on the floor in his room. Ever since Clint went to ‘work’, he started to remove the wooden planks with the tools he found in the laundry area. Since Clint isn’t around, he has nothing to hide anymore, including the metal arm underneath his sleeve. He takes his shirt off — boy, it’s _scorching_ hot — and puts his hair in a high bun. He thinks of cutting it off this summer, he just needs to find the time and energy to do so.

Bundle by bundle, Bucky puts wads of cash under the floor and covers it with cloth. He places ammunition carefully inside, a few smaller weapons, some knives, until he hears a bark.

Lucky is standing in front of his door, seemingly yelling at the suspicious stuff he’s doing right now. He respects the boundary though and stays outside. He’s a smart dog, hopefully not smart enough to tell his owner about this.

“Hey, aren’t you a good boy?” Bucky rests his back onto the mattress, offering a smile to Lucky. “We’re friends, right? You’re not gonna snitch on me, right?”

Lucky growls and barks.

“You want pizza? You want pizza, Lucky?” Bucky remembers from Clint, figuring out that earlier was _indeed_ for Lucky when the dog suddenly calms down and sits. _Gotcha_.

“Good boy.” Bucky crawls over to Lucky, sitting in front of him. He extends a flesh hand for a shake. “We got a deal?” 

Lucky huffs and puts his head underneath Bucky’s hand, opting for some petting instead of a hand shake — or at least for him, a paw shake. Bucky gives in and uses both his hands for scratches much to Lucky’s delight.

Landing on the Avengers HQ’s helipad was always a joy to Clint. He likes being here, sometimes wishing he could just live here because of all the commodities offered but he can’t. Tony made it clear that it’s just a superhero hideout, nothing more. Natasha turns the motorcycle engine off and lets Clint go down first. Clint notices Steve’s own motorcycle to their right, meaning they’re not the first ones here. 

The doors open upon acknowledging who they are, the speakers uttering _Welcome, Black Widow, Hawkeye_ as they make their way inside. Bruce rolls his stool away from the holographic screens to say hi to the newcomers.

“Hey Nat, Clint. Haven’t seen you in a while.” Bruce beams at them both, so Clint waves at him as Nat immediately slumps herself onto the expensive couch in the living room. 

“Yeah, what’s up? Do we have food? I’m kinda starving.” Clint holds his stomach with a sad face until a wrapped burger comes towards his way, almost failing to catch it. 

“Didn’t you get lunch before you got here?” Steve raises a brow, sipping on his Brisk lemonade, a bag of fast food on his other arm. He goes directly to the kitchen counter to put it down, as well as his round backpack where he unsuspectedly keeps his shield. “Here, Bruce, I got your curly fries.”

“No, Natasha didn’t buy me anything, so–” Clint takes a bite of his burger, dodging the throw pillow being hurled by Natasha from the couch. “Hey! Here, take a bite, it’s good.” He sits beside Natasha who plucks the sandwich from Clint’s hand, taking a huge mouthful.

“Thanks,” Bruce says, rolling his seat towards the kitchen this time. Clint still finds it hard to think about how this tiny, spectacled scientist could transform into an eight-footer, green big guy. “You got cajun with you?”

“How many times do I have to tell you kids that eating _isn’t_ allowed in the living room?” Tony quips with a smile as he jogs down the stairs from his lab. He beelines to where Steve and Bruce are, snatching a piece of fries from Bruce before getting some juice from the fridge. “We can always cook here, you know. You guys don’t have to bring take-outs everytime you go here.”

“No one cooks _well_ here.” Clint sighs, inhaling whatever Natasha left in his burger, chewing and chewing and chewing. A gulp. “We should practice. Get some ingredients out, Tony.”

“We’re not here for a cooking show.” Steve reminds, putting his drink down. “Care to tell the team, Tony?” 

Tony chugs his acai blueberry drink and holds up a palm. Natasha and Clint decide to walk over to the dinner table, with Clint pulling out a chair and Natasha situating herself on the table.

Tony releases a sigh of relief after drinking then says, “Let’s wait for Thor.”

Just then, a crackle of lightning flashed outside the headquarters, as JARVIS greeted _Welcome, God of Thunder._

“You guys ate lunch without me?” Thor’s intense voice echoed in the halls, frowning as he marches towards where the rest of the Avengers are. He came from another realm, Asgard, and he _is_ starved. The Avengers had been telling him to just get an apartment here, pose as Thor Odinson, but he declines. 

Thankfully, Steve did buy him a burger too. He tosses it to Thor.

“Alright! Gang’s all here.” Tony clasps his hands and sits across Clint. “Have you guys heard about the recent assassinations?” 

Clint looks over to Natasha who gives him an _I told you so_ shrug. 

“I’ve heard it from the radio this morning.” Bruce speaks up, “They say it still hasn’t been resolved. They see patterns, but not enough to conclude that it’s the same killer.”

“Anyone care to fill me in?” Thor crosses his arms, those that Clint is jealous of, before he munches on his burger again.

“Right. In the past month there has been a surge of killings in politics all over the country. The thing is, it wasn’t necessarily happening on one side. Blue and red — people are getting taken down.” Tony explains, spreading an arm then clutching his hand, bringing a holographic screen over where they are. It plays multiple scenarios from different news channels, showcasing the different deaths of politicians over the course of the month. They varied from small town officials to senators like Stern. 

“Another thing is that they’re not the only ones getting suspiciously killed.” Tony swipes the screen and reveals a man in his 40’s dressed in some sort of a lab gown. “Patrick Wagner from Sharma Pharmaceuticals. He’s the head analytical chemist. Found shot dead in his home 6 weeks ago.”

The Avengers became quiet, listening to Tony explain the situation. He scrolls through a few more profiles — a small company secretary from Washington, a preacher from Iowa and a deputy police chief in Montana. These three are not included in this month’s cases. They were two to three months prior, however they _all_ have something in common with the recent ones — Russian slug, no rifling.

Meanwhile, at home, Bucky takes his reconstructed, customized high-velocity smoothbore and tucks it away in his closet before putting his clothes inside, hiding and burying it for now.

“Huh. Russian.” Clint leans back to his chair, folding his arms. “Doesn’t it make it easier to track the killer if we’re looking at a common denominator here?” 

“Guns without rifling are hard to track,” Natasha answers. “Because the specific markings on the bullets left by the rifling let us find the gun owner or even the gunsmith themself, having bullets _without_ markings easily covers that up. No cool marks, no gun.”

“Aren’t _slugs_ harder to shoot in a distance? If you’re an expert assassin–”

“If you’re an expert assassin you’d be able to work with that in a way.” Natasha cuts in. “ _Or…_ it’s some sort of a hybrid gun. Something above average. Something at par with Stark tech. Maybe.”

Clint raises his brows and nods in fascination. He couldn’t help it, his only thing is arrows. Natasha, on the other hand, is an expert on guns.

“She’s right.” Tony agrees, another gun expert (but not anymore, Clint supposes). “And this is why the police can’t have any leads besides the fact that this person is _really_ good at stealth.”

“No clues at all? They are useless.” Thor decides, and so Natasha gives him a high-five.

“Did this person not get any security footage at all?” Bruce attempts to get into the conversation, spinning his chair once. “That can’t be right.”

“No,” Steve answers this time. He sighs deeply. “We did hear from someone though. From Washington. I don’t think it's valid evidence or whatsoever since it was only one person, and they saw the killer in the middle of the night. Could be their eyes playing tricks on them, plus they admitted they were a bit tipsy.”

“Spill it.” Natasha urges.

“Said the person had a metal arm.”

Clint comes home just before dinner. He didn’t return right away after the meeting and instead looked for crimes to fight around New York, as usual. He’s starting to think that he’s getting better at being a solo vigilante and getting used to not relying on teammates to function. Don’t get him wrong though, he _loves_ the Avengers and being in the Avengers. Sometimes, the team is just overwhelming for him. 

“Ow…” Clint hisses as he slightly pokes a fresh bruise by his jaw. He’s got a few scratches here and there. He unlocks the door and has totally forgotten about his new housemate until he sees him and Lucky hanging out on the couch together, Lucky wagging his tail at the movie. It’s about a dog, but Clint doesn’t really remember the title.

“You’re back.” Bucky says before turning his head to Clint, shifting his body on the couch to look at him clearer. “Jeez, dude. What happened to you?”

Clint tiredly takes his shoes off, stumbling over Lucky’s bone toy that squeaked underneath his foot. He had already thrown his bow and quiver through his room’s window from the outside like he usually does to keep his identity a secret from his past housemates, same tactics with how he got them out earlier. He now only carries his bag and his bloodied costume inside. “I uh… got robbed on my way here.”

“Did you?” Bucky clicks his tongue, watching Clint limp towards the dining table to get some leftover pizza he got for Lucky earlier. _Poor guy_ , Bucky thinks. He still had other wounds to heal and there he is. “You need help patching those up?”

Clint's phone makes a sound.

6 people  
  
Tasha  
So what's the plan? We didn't really come up with an answer earlier.  
Steve  
I think we're gonna pass it on to SHIELD.  
Tasha  
That's fair.  
Bruce  
sure hope they work fast. i know those guys always have their hands full  
Tasha  
Put a little trust on Fury, will you?  


“Nah.” Clint denies and puts his phone back in his pocket, shoving a whole slice of pepperoni pizza in his mouth, yelping when he felt the cut on his lower lip. “Should be able to handle it. Thanks, man. I think… augh. I’ll just go to my room and call it a day.” 

“Alright. Be careful next time. At least you’re not dead.” Bucky says, turning around again to face the TV. He switches the channel to the news which flashes Stern’s face, talking about the rewards being _tripled_ for any leads pointing to who the hitman was. Bucky averts his gaze and exhales, putting it back to the movie channel when Lucky begins to whine at his feet.

He then feels a vibration from his phone.

The message makes Bucky clench his jaw.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u so much for reading! this one's a bit more action stuff, so pls be warned of the blood and violence ahead :-(

_**12 YEARS AGO.** _

Friday afternoon. It’s raining. Hard. Bucky comes home from school with a black eye and a bleeding nose, his father trailing behind him, closing the umbrella they shared before going in. 

“You know, I am _so_ sick of getting calls from your principal–”

“God, it wasn’t my fault! He threw the first punch! I told you–”

“And I thought I taught you _damn well_ to know better–”

“ _Yes,_ and it was to _fight back_.”

“James!”

“For once, dad, listen to _me_!”

The house goes quiet, and Rebecca quietly opens her room’s door, watching her brother and father argue for the fourth time this week. Thunder rolls heavily as lightning highlights the dried blood trail down Bucky’s broken nose.

“They were gonna beat the boy up for lunch money, dad _._ ” Bucky curls his fists tightly that he feels his nails sink in. “I couldn’t just stand there. I _couldn’t_.”

“The boy you knocked out was a _nephew_ of the school board’s director of education.” George wraps his fingers around his hair in frustration, sighing. It was one gesture that Bucky was so afraid of seeing when he was younger because then he knew he fucked up. Funny enough, he adapted that. “You’re gonna get kicked out of your school, son. They’re gonna kick you the hell out because you punched your goddamn classmate.”

“I don’t–” Bucky stammers in his words, gazing down to the floor. Lightning crackles. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t care?” George puts his hands on his waist, snickering, then pivoting around. “You _don’t_ care? _You_ always tell me to listen to you when you don’t listen to _me._ Your mother and I didn’t teach you to be _this_ stubborn. You come home with a cut on your mouth at least twice every week. What exactly do you gain from fighting? What exactly do you gain from messin’ with the wrong people?”

When George turns around to finally face his son, a tear drops from Bucky’s eye. He bites down his lips. Tries to contain the sobs inside. George closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He walks away and grabs his car keys once again, his footsteps loudly thumping on the floor. Thunder booms outside.

“Where are you going?” Bucky asks, his voice a bit shaky.

“Stay here.”

“Are you disappointed in me?” 

George gets ahold of the door knob but Bucky’s words froze him. He swallows the lump in his throat and heads out of the house without answering. Rebecca takes one last look at her brother before closing her door.

That night, George didn’t come home.

He lost visibility driving through that hell of a storm. He was going back to Bucky’s high school, apparently. He was going to beg them to let Bucky stay for another year. Bucky knew this because his dad was apparently calling the director on his way there. 

Everyone pitied the Barnes children. No parents, no relatives who wanted to take them in. They were only 17 and 12. His father worked in a construction site, and one of his coworkers _actually_ offered to foster them both, god bless his heart. Bucky agreed but only for a few months and until he turned 18.

At 12, Rebecca Barnes was sent to an all-girls boarding school. Bucky and their foster dad, Brian, thought it would be better for her. 

“Promise me you’ll be alright, Reb.” Bucky says with a hint of concern in his tone. Rebecca sat in the car, laughing at her brother. She offers her hand.

Bucky was puzzled, but he takes it with his left, as Rebecca caresses it gently.

“Youpromise me _you’ll_ be alright, James.” 

That moment, Bucky thought Rebecca cared for him more than he did for her. Like she was the older sister, the other way around. It reminded him of when their mom was still alive.

“Please, James.”

At 18, James Barnes met a man who offered to give him a job at the local bank. Janitorial, he said. Bucky agreed. He needed money not only to support himself but also to show Rebecca that he was able to. That he was _alright._

At 18, James Barnes didn’t know about the underground work the bank was doing. He didn’t know about the Department Xor Vasily Karpov or the fact that he was essentially chosen to be trained to _kill._ That it was all just a lie. That this was where his life would take a horrible turn and would have him endanger whatever family he has left. That he messed with the wrong people _again_ like what his dad would say.

_**PRESENT DAY.** _

“ _Winter Soldier._ ” The voice resonates in Bucky’s head, opening his eyes promptly as the elevator door opens.

“You’re here. I almost never see you here.” Nico Constantine has this smug look in his face, hands inside his pockets. Bucky doesn’t likeNico.

“Yeah, I’ve been avoiding you, asshat.” Bucky, without looking at Nico, walks out of the lift and hits the other’s shoulder as he passes by. Nico rolls his eyes and follows Bucky, much to Bucky’s irritation. 

“What brings you here? I thought you’re visiting Mr. Pierce in his house directly nowadays since you’re so _special._ ”

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s none of your business, Nico.” 

“God, I hope you’re in trouble. I’ve been waiting to have you kicked out someh–”

With a swift flip of a knife he pulled from his thigh holster, Bucky pointed the weapon on Nico’s chin, barely touching his neck. The iridescent knife glistens while Bucky’s eyes look dim, the swirling honey color puncturing into the other man. Nico stays still.

“You talk too much, _Wolf Spider_.” Bucky says gravelly, and Nico snickers in amusement. They stay in this position for a few more seconds until Bucky lowers his knife. This isn’t why he went here. If Bucky’s honest, which is something he _wants_ to be, he doesn’t want to be here either. He suspires and leaves Nico behind, entering a room a few steps away.

“You’re two seconds late.”, says the man on the chair. He has blond hair and looks fairly old. Like he’s seen too much in his lifetime. The man offers a smile though, the kind Bucky had learned not to trust over the years. He moves forward and reaches for his desk plate to set it the right angle. Alexander Pierce, it reads. “You’re not usually like that.”

“Ran into Constantine on my way here.” Bucky answers immediately, closing the door behind him. He proceeds towards the desk, halting in a reasonable distance. “What do you need me for?”

“You,” Alexander stands up with a low groan of inconvenience. He puts his glasses on and smiles at Bucky again. “Have been a great asset to us. I’m very proud of the decision I made to take you in 12 years ago. Can you believe that it’s been _that_ long?”

Bucky stays silent. Alexander notices how empty the Winter Soldier’s eyes looked and shrugs it off. He pulls a folder out from one of his drawers and hands it to Bucky.

“Anyways, I’ve got a new job for you. Less known than Stern so it shouldn’t be that hard for you. He’s a donut shop owner. He apparently accidentally saw some _secret_ interactions from our friends last night on his way home. They want him gone by tonight.”

Bucky opens the file. Moore, Andrej. Half-Ukrainian. 34-years-old. Bucky flips the clipped pages and studies the donut shop which was photographed in many angles, as well as the buildings nearby.

“Clint!” Kate Bishop almost jumps over the counter when she sees Clint who is practically still half-asleep. The smell of coffee and pastry in Moore’s Donuts is heaven to him. “XL?”

“Just make it medium today.” Clint stretches and hears a crack, immediately retreating his body in pain. He sits down at the nearest available table.

Kate whistles and pours Clint his usual XL black coffee, grabbing some brownies on her way to Clint’s table. She sits in front of him with a frown. “You good?”

“I hope so.” Clint groans and takes his coffee, downing it to almost half already. “Bastard hit me pretty bad on my ribs last night.” 

“Clint, you gotta stop playing superhero too often. Look at you!” Kate gives him a once-over. Clint only laughs, feeling a sharp pang near his diaphragm in the process. “You’re a mess.”

“This is nothing. I’m used to it. Besides, I wasn’t _playing superhero._ ” Clint brings up his fingers to quote the last words. “I was mugged. Sheesh, have some sympathy.” 

Kate sighs. Clint had used this excuse multiple times already that she knows something is going on behind it. She doesn’t question Clint though. Giving him XL coffee when he asks for a medium cheers him up enough. “Well, that’s what the brownie is for.” She pushes the plate towards him, making him smile a bit.

“Thanks, Kate.” Clint picks up the dessert and takes a bite. He’s surely lucky to have a friend like Kate outside the Avengers. Sometimes, he wishes he could tell her about what he really does. That he isn’t just playing around. “What time are you off today?”

“Mm, about 7 o’clock. I’ll come back at around 8:30 before Mr. Moore closes though, I gotta do some inventory.”

“Why not just do it on shift?” 

Kate shrugs. “It’s just how it is here. You? How’s work?”

Right. Clint came up with an imaginary workplace. “Uh, good. Stressful, but good.”

“Good,” Kate nods and stands up, taking the empty plate from Clint. “You know, you should just work here. It’s gonna be fun, you have me! We’re still hiring. Kinda.”

Clint laughs. It certainly was fun when he was still teaching archery. That’s where he met Kate. He taught her archery. “Wish I could just drop it, Kate. I bet it’d be fun to work with you.”

“You said it.” Kate winks and sighs. “Which reminds me, I gotta go back to work, so…” She raises a palm. “Pay up.”

“Ah! Right.” Clint raises his index finger, patting down his pocket. He stands up and feels his back pockets too. Then, a groan-turned-whimper. “I… forgot my wallet.”

Kate playfully rolls her eyes. Of course he did. “It’s fine, you said you got robbed last night, right? You probably have no cash in there anyway. I’ll cover it.”

Clint gasps exaggeratedly. “You’re _god-sent_ , Katie!”

“Nuh-uh. I actually need to borrow nock pliers from you. I broke mine earlier. It was pretty old anyway.”

“Oh, sure. I’ll stop by tonight and give you payment for these?”

“That works! Guess I’ll see you tonight, Clint.”

“If he saw them last night, he could’ve called the police already.” Bucky closes the folder and tosses it to the nearby coffee table. 

Alexander goes back to his seat and purses his lips. “Because they usually don’t right away. _Fear_ takes over. They think if they call, they’ll get in trouble. They think about their _family._ They think about what would happen to them. Right?”

Bucky inhales sharply. “Then, if you’re so sure about Andrej not reporting–”

A _slam_. Bucky stays still. Alexander is now standing up, eyes on the assassin in front. “Why do you seem to have so many questions? Are you hesitating, Barnes?”

Bucky bites the inner cheek of his mouth until it tastes metallic. Alexander had always referred to him and the others as ‘soldiers’. He knows he just ruffled his boss’s feathers.

But _god._ 12 years.

He’s tired.

He’s _so_ tired.

“Maybe you’re forgetting about our little deal. Would you like me to–”

“No, sir.” Bucky cuts in, indignance hidden in his tone. He closes his eyes and lowers his head. “I’ll get it done. Like always.”

Clint walks out of his room, slinging his backpack on his back. He taps his pockets to double-check if he’s got his wallet this time. The patter of Lucky’s feet echoes in the room as the dog jogs to him happily. 

“Hey, bud. I’m just gonna go run some errands, alright?” Clint bends over to nuzzle his dog. He kisses the top of his head. “Stinky. Take a bath tomorrow.”

Lucky protests and barks. Clint shakes his head with a laugh and walks over to Bucky’s bedroom, knocking a tune.

Inside, Bucky opens his closet and pulls his gun out with a sigh. He’s almost done packing for his mission tonight when he hears the knock. Bucky turns his head to the sound then sits at the edge of his bed to put the weapon in its case. “What do you want, Clint.”

“I’m heading out a bit to meet a friend a few blocks away. Text me if you need anything from 7-11 while I’m out.” Clint leans his head onto the wooden door, hearing rustling and zipping inside. Bucky said to leave him alone if he hears sounds, so he backs away. 

“Alright,” Bucky replies and stands up again. He zips his jacket up and places his weapons in their holsters, wrapping his utility belt around his waist. “Be careful out there.” 

With that, Bucky takes the mask laying on the bed and puts it on, as well as his goggles. He slings his bag on his shoulder, heading towards the window.

“Thanks, see you later, man.” Clint tells Bucky, patting Lucky’s head one last time before leaving.

The moment Clint locks the door, Bucky hops out of his window and goes the other way around to avoid his housemate. He has to go up this office building near the donut shop and aim from the 9th floor. Everything should be smooth and easy tonight, just like the other ones.

Clint skipped his way to the donut shop. He sees the lobby lights flick off, but the lights from the back are still on. He should be able to access the shop from there, and so he goes. He has this weird feeling in his stomach and he’s not sure about the reason (hopefully not because of the chocolate milk. He’s not lactose intolerant, as far as he knows.) 

Three knocks in and Kate still hasn’t answered. Clint wonders if he should text her that he’s outside, or let her be because she may be too busy doing work. It’s already seven past nine though.

“What do you mean, Mr. Moore?” Kate grips Andrej’s shoulders to steady him, guiding him to sit down on the office chair. “What do you mean you’re in danger?”

“They’re gonna take me, Kate.” The man shivers, anxiously looking around the empty shop and outside the windows. “It’s too quiet. I _know_ they’re gonna take me. You gotta go.” 

“What? What’s going on? I–” As Kate speaks, she hears a voice calling to her from the back door. Clint. 

Kate licks her lips and squeezes her boss’s shoulders for comfort. “My friend, Clint… He’s just outside, I’ll talk to him quick and then maybe he could help us deal with this, hm? I’ll call the authorities for you too. Just. Just stay here, sir. I’ll be back.”

Andrej jounces his head and cowers on his chair. Kate offers a smile and walks out of the office to answer Clint at the door. As the door opens, she spots Clint already typing up a message for her. 

Clint tilts his chin up. “Kate! Are you done? Here’s your pliers by the way.” He takes a strap off his shoulder and pulls his bag to the front to grab the tool. “Take your time with it– oh! Here’s the money–”

Before Clint could finish his sentence, Kate looks left and right then pulls him inside the store with a haste push of the door shut. She whispers, “Clint, I need help. My manager’s kinda panicking.” 

“Wh- Panicking?” Clint whispers back, “What happened?”

“I-I don’t know either, he just pulled me into the office and said he was in da–”

 _BANG!_ The glass shatters a few meters away from the duo as Clint instinctively shoves Kate downwards, shielding her from shards. Kate puts her hands on top of her head and ducks, closing her eyes tightly. 

Clint immediately stands up and grits his teeth upon noticing the hole in the glass. He figures out the trajectory of it and looks over to the counter to see the bullet pass through the concrete divider. 

_Andrej_.

“Kate.” Clint turns back to Kate, assisting her when she stands up, her legs wobbly. “Kate, I need you to listen to me.” He yanks his house keys from his pocket and places it on the girl’s hand. “You know where my apartment is, right? Run. Please. It’s safer there.”

“What’s happening?” Kate tucks hair behind her ear, “Clint, you’re _not_ staying here alone!”

“He’s not.” A voice comes from behind them, and they both see the Black Widow loading her gun. 

“Widow!” Clint greets too enthusiastically, but Kate is too confused to even register that in. Clint faces Kate again with a deep breath. “Kate… we’ll talk about this later. _Go_.”

Kate doesn’t understand. She’s not sure if she wants to. All she knows is she trusts Clint.

“Okay. Be careful, whatever the hell you’re planning to do.” Kate gives Clint a firm hug and runs out of the establishment.

Clint watches Kate go, not even noticing that Natasha had already gone to the office where Andrej was in. 

“Clint?” She calls, “You might want to see this.”

Hurrying to the back by hopping above the counter, Clint already sees the stream of blood trailing out of the office door. He walks in and sees Andrej Moore, dead. The bullet went right through his chest.

“Shit.” Clint curses, “This is what Kate was talking about. But _why_? He’s just a shop owner!”

“We have no time.” Natasha bolts out of the office. Clint stares at poor Andrej, shock and fear still in his face. Clint reaches for him and shuts his eyes before following Natasha.

“Clint!” Natasha exclaims, pointing at the building across the street. On the 9th floor there was a shadow moving behind one of the windows. Clint briefly sees a gun being tucked away before the shadow turns around. “Let’s go!”

Natasha runs out of the building as Clint sprints behind her. He’s not sure if they’ll be able to catch the culprit since they’re nine floors ahead. Natasha and Clint climb the building’s fire escape swiftly, already hearing sirens in the distance.

“Nat, I don’t have my bow and arrows with me!” Clint reminds her as they enter an unlocked door and rush up the stairs from there. 

Natasha takes a pistol from her holster and throws it to Clint. “Use that.”

He prefers _his_ stuff, but this will work.

Bucky packs the rest of his equipment. His phone vibrates just before he could open the door — Of course it’s from his boss.

“ _You’ve got two people going after you right now._ ” Alexander says over the phone. Bucky situates the phone between his ear and shoulder, pulling his SIG-Sauer P220ST out.

“I know.” Bucky cocks the gun. “I’m on it.”

Upon wearing the bag, Bucky opens the door and immediately hears the footsteps coming from a few floors below. His goggles map out the area like what it did to the donut shop, registering heat signatures that help him pinpoint his targets from afar and while obstructed. He makes out a woman with long hair and a man with a gun from the figures. Bucky picks out a ball from his belt and kneels, rolling the item down the stairs before running to the rooftop.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Clint asks Natasha between breaths.

“Yes.” She responds, “The bullet holes came through three layers — glass, concrete and wood. Two that conceals the victim and _yet_ it was as if the assassin knew right where to shoot. It wasn’t a lucky shot. This was calculated. I have a feeling we’re following the person who shot Stern.”

“How do you _calculate_ that?” 

“You just need the right gadget.” Natasha suddenly halts and puts an arm in front of Clint. Before she could tell her to cover himself, the gas hisses out of the ball and blankets their orbit. The duo coughs, but they can’t stop there. They both know the mystery assassin did this. He knows they’re after him.

While Natasha was still coughing, Clint takes off and continues chasing with what’s left of his energy. He reaches the rooftop on time, the assassin a few feet in front. It’s a silhouette of a man, Clint thinks. The assassin looks back and Clint notices the goggles he’s wearing, thinking about what Natasha said earlier. That must be the reason for the dead accuracy earlier.

However, this guy isn’t the only one accurate here.

Raising the gun he borrowed from Natasha, Clint shoots ahead, making the assassin stumble a bit. 

Bucky grunts underneath the mask but manages to keep his composure, his goggles flying away from him. He touches his temple and sees red. A scrape. Without looking back, Bucky dives off the building.

Clint yells “No!” and runs after the criminal. When he reached the edge, there was no one. 

“Clint!” Natasha calls from behind, so Clint jogs towards her. To no surprise, she’s still having trouble breathing; she was in front of the ball when the gas was released after all. “Where…?”

“I lost him. What the lady in Washington said was true. I saw he’s got a metal arm.” Clint admits. He clicks his tongue and supports Natasha by the arm, sighing in concern. “You alright?”

“Yeah… what’s that?” Natasha lurches forward and towards the goggles left behind. It’s sparking electricity from where Clint hit it earlier. Natasha picks it up and examines it, rotating it a few times.

“I think I broke it. Sorry.” Clint says from behind, catching up.

“It’s fine, we can bring it to Tony anyway.” Natasha gives Clint a smile, patting the side of his face. “I’m glad you’re safe. Let’s go back to the headquarters.”

Meanwhile, on the 7th floor, Bucky is sitting down in a corner of an empty room with his phone to his ear. He kicks his grappling hook away as he hisses at the wound, looking out of the window.

“ _Apparently they’re from the Avengers. They’re being too much of a pain in our asses nowadays._ ” Alexander hums. “ _What do you say we rattle them a little bit? You think you can do it?_ ”

Bucky closes his eyes.

“ _Should we start with… Let’s see… hm. How about… Hawkeye?”_


	4. Chapter 4

Natasha and Clint stand outside Clint’s apartment as Kate is seated in the living room, Lucky napping on her lap. She couldn’t sleep although Clint offered a mattress. Not after tonight.

“Should we tell her?” Clint has his voice lowered, crossing his arms. 

“What exactly? That her boss is dead or that you helped chase the perpetrator and that’s why you stayed out all night?” 

“Nat.” 

“She’s 21 and I _know_ she’s not dumb. You’re with Black Widow right now.” Natasha looks back inside. “I’ll go back to the headquarters to see how Tony’s doing with the goggles.”

Clint sighs. Of course they’re not allowed to tell others who they really are, not even close friends, not even family. 

Kate turns her head to where they are, smiling thin at Natasha. Natasha smiles back and squeezes Clint’s arm as farewell before going to her motorcycle, waving.

“You and Tony should rest up too.” Clint says a bit louder against the roar of the vehicle. As Natasha drives away, Kate finally walks up to Clint.

“Hey, Katie.” Clint says softly as he drops his hands upon noticing. 

“Think I’m going back to my house… Thanks for letting me stay the night.” Kate rubs her tired eyes, already having dark circles under them.

“Kate… about Mr. Moore.” Clint opens up, voice quivering. “I’m sorry.”

Kate shakes her head, attempting another smile. “I know. I saw the news. It sucks. He was nice to me. To everyone, actually.” A sigh. “You got openings in your job? Mind if you squeeze me in?”

Clint simpers. “I’ll ask my boss ‘bout it.” He consoles as he walks Kate to the edge of the sidewalk.

“Mhm? Is your boss Black Widow?” 

Nat was right — Kate is anything but an idiot (most of the time). Clint stares at the woman, seemingly waiting for the punchline. He swallows and attempts to look confused. “…I- What?”

Kate takes a deep breath and starts to walk away with a worn out smile. “Nothing… Take care of yourself, Clint. I’ll see you around.”

Once Kate is far enough, Clint groans, covering his face with a palm.

The next few days were quiet. Stern and Moore’s deaths were suspiciously too close according to SHIELD — but that’s all they could say regarding this mystery assassin. They found the usual type of bullet used when they inspected Moore’s crime scene and it traces back to absolute nothing. Fury is already holding it all in, guaranteeing that it wasn’t that his people are incompetent, this guy is just _too good_. However, he bets his personal helicopter and his super cool van that this assassin isn’t working alone. This is organized crime.

In the meantime, Clint is back to fighting and eating chicken souvlaki from the Greek restaurant near his house _._ His teammates advised him to let SHIELD handle it their way while the Avengers handle Ares’s third tantrum this week. Clint would agree, of course, but it still bugs him that the next target could be _anyone_ he knows. His fear is that he won’t be able to see it coming.

“You like their food too?” A tray slides on the table in front of Clint. It has a beef pita wrap, a side of fries and a cup of soda. Clint looks up and he sees his housemate nodding at him as a greeting. He looks exhausted. 

“Yeah. Their tzatziki sauce is awesome.” Clint says before dipping his skewers in the said sauce, taking in two pieces at once. Clint notices the bandage on Bucky’s temple, something he saw a couple days earlier but didn’t bother to bring up till now. “What happened to that by the way?”

It takes a while before Bucky realizes what Clint is talking about. He takes a bite of his wrap and sips his soda first. “I bumped my head on the corner of the cupboard.” He reasons out.

Clint nods. That’s… fair. He used to do that all the time when he first moved in. Bucky subconsciously pushes his cup to Clint in case he needed a drink, and Clint in return gives his tzatziki when Bucky finishes his own because he ordered a medium. 

“Who was the girl?” Bucky questions. 

“Hm?”

“There was a girl in the house the other day. Said you gave her your keys. I passed out before you arrived though.”

“Oh, Kate.” Clint replies, taking a sip of the soda. “There was an incident at her job that night. Told her to stay in our house for the night just to be safe.”

Bucky stops chewing. He stares at his tray and freezes. He wants to ask if it was at the donut shop even though he already knows the answer. 

“I see.” Bucky continues, monotone. This is one of the worst parts in this job — he has to pretend not to feel bad, but he does. Everytime, even before he pulls the trigger, _he does_. 

But he’s a killing machine, and machines _don’t_ feel. That’s what his metal arm is for, a daily reminder of who he is.

They ate quietly afterwards, both having too much in their minds.

“Oh, yeah. We gotta do some grocery shopping. You off today?” Clint wipes his mouth and throws the napkin on the tray. “‘Cause I am.”

It felt weird somehow, to have their days off the same time. Bucky nods and shoves the last four pieces of fries in his mouth.

Clint and Bucky come back to their apartment to make a checklist. Apparently their fridge is almost empty, their pantry is halved and they’re out of bandages. This is also the perfect opportunity for Bucky to buy more of his own stuff. 

After taking some cash from his stash, Bucky goes out of his room and greets Lucky who comes running to him. Clint, on the other hand, is just finishing the list on the dinner table, shaking the pen that is running out of ink. Maybe they need some pens too.

“Since when did you and Lucky get so close?” Clint asks, pushing the pen onto the paper a bit harder. He only needs to write ‘cheese’.

Bucky shrugs. Lucky licks his face and attempts to playfully bite on his metal arm. Only he and Lucky know about it in this house. “Hey, don’t bite my arm.” Gently shifting it away, Bucky pulls his sleeve down.

Lucky huffs and goes to Clint.

“You’ve got your toy there, bud. You got your squishy toy. I told you, no biting friends, right?” Clint reminds, poking Lucky’s nose, in which the dog covers with his paw after. Smart dog.

Bucky stands up and ties his hair up again. “I can drive if you want.”

“Nah,” Clint refuses, burying the list in his back pocket. He grabs the car keys on his way to Bucky. “You look like you’ve gone to hell and back. You can stay here and rest, y’know?”

Bucky shakes his head. “I can handle it. I’ve had worse days.” He crinkles his nose briefly and opens the door for the both of them, waving goodbye at Lucky.

Bucky remembers how much he hated grocery stores back then. 

Living in such a small town in Indiana, he would oftentimes have to avoid people, especially those he had once broken the nose and were eager for a rematch. Even the parents who didn’t mind teaching a teenager a lesson were around, though Bucky thought they should teach their sons not to pick on others first. 

“Hey, what kind of milk do you like?” Clint’s voice snaps Bucky out of his childhood reminiscing. He holds up 2% and skim, shaking both a little for emphasis. 

Bucky blinks and points at the 2% one, so Clint puts the other back to the fridge and starts walking again, Bucky pushing the cart right beside him. They’ve been quiet with only occasional questions whether which brand the other likes or if it’s reasonable to buy 20 lemons just because it’s on sale. They’re an unlikely pair of housemates especially to Clint — usually, he would’ve gotten to know his housemate’s likes and dislikes by this time. Bucky’s house rules are the only one he has taken notes of, and how he and Lucky seem to be closer adds to the disappointment. 

Clint reaches for a tray of eggs and some packs of string cheese he would bring to Avengers missions because he and Thor love snacking on them. Bucky would stay silent unless asked, fiddling with his left sleeve most of the time. 

“So…” Clint attempts to strike up a conversation. “Why’d you move to New York?”

Bucky merely takes a breath, as if the question is such a drag to answer. He’s normally not the type of person who gets asked a lot about personal (but shareable) stuff. 

“I lived in Brooklyn before.” Bucky answers anyway, with Clint feeling relief in his chest. “I just had to move back to my sister in Baltimore in the meantime, but I couldn’t stay there too long.”

“Did she kick you out?”

“No, I–” Bucky pauses. There’s the swirl of guilt in his chest again, making him remember how much Rebecca cares and how much he’s probably making her worry. “...I wanted to leave.” 

“Ah,” says Clint, the answer hitting home. “I hear you. You know, this reminds me of my brother. I tried to convince him to live with me, share the rent, but he said he wanted to be independent.”

They reach the seafood aisle in a bit while Clint rambles about his brother Barney, who Clint wanted to be there for especially after an accident that left him on a wheelchair. Bucky is a better listener more than a talker, and through this, he realizes that maybe older brothers are just stubborn siblings in the guise of those who desperately push through self-reliance. Without even noticing it, Bucky’s lips line into a faint smile, Clint’s thoughtfulness getting into him. 

Unfortunately, the expression on Bucky’s face soon gets wiped off as Bucky recognizes the man walking towards their direction, a few meters to Clint’s right. 

Nico Constantine with his trademarked _shit-eating_ grin.

Bucky wasn’t kidding when he said he’s avoiding this man like the fucking _plague_.

He has to think _fast_. Bucky takes Clint’s arm, who is now talking about how Barney stole his cinnamon roll when he was nine, and pushes their cart forward while ducking his head behind the taller one. 

“Hey– Bucky, why–” Puzzled, Clint stammers and crinkles his brows together. He follows Bucky’s pace either way.

Nico _did_ catch a glimpse of Bucky though, and now he’s on his way to track him down for fun. If Bucky hates his ass, you’d double that to get how Nico feels for him. He doesn’t like how big of a competition Bucky is. He doesn’t get how he’s the best assassin they’ve got. Once he finds out the Winter Soldier’s weakness, even just the slightest of it, he’ll be easy to topple down. Nico could’ve seen the face of the friend Bucky’s with if only Bucky wasn’t that sharp — he guarantees himself that he _will_.

If Nico sees Bucky with _anyone_ , he’d use them to blackmail him in the future. Bucky was almost caught with Rebecca once. He couldn’t afford to start with his housemate all the same. 

With a swift turn of the cart, Bucky spots an employee stocking up a shelf with another cart beside her. He smoothly parks theirs next to it without the employee noticing, thankful that it’s light enough to handle with one hand. He then exits that aisle with Clint, looking around and fortunately seeing a man pull a wagon out of a door that says _Employees Only._ They head there.

Clint doesn’t know what’s going on at the moment. They’re moving so fast that he couldn't even manage to ask. He’s getting the gist that someone’s following them and Bucky doesn’t like _that,_ so they’re finding a place to hide. They enter the restricted area once the employee is far enough, sneaking into the empty hall like mice. Clint sees another door and tugs Bucky’s hand to make him stop, pointing at it and leading them inside this time. As an Avenger, he’s always alert and aware of his surroundings especially in chases like this and it helps. He just hopes the person isn’t as bad as Ultron or something. He doesn’t have his weapons (nor costume) with him again, thinking he’s running out of luck nowadays.

It’s dark and Bucky wishes he’s got his infrared goggles right now, reminding him to get a new one since he’s lost it. They swing their arms around to feel and figure out the room. There are shelves and they figured this must be a stock room, managing through and finding a corner where they cramp themselves in. There’s a bit of light coming from the small, rectangular window of the door, allowing Bucky to see if Nico is coming around. They’re awkwardly positioned against each other; Clint’s right foot is stepping on a rack while Bucky supports himself by holding on to Clint’s thigh due to the box below him that is inconveniently placed. Bucky’s right arm is gripping one of the uprights of the shelf behind Clint, eyes glued at the entrance, leveling his breathing.

Meanwhile, Clint is trying to stay still, taking in the fact that Bucky’s _too close_ and that he just learned that Bucky is indeed using that Vanilla Milk & Papaya scented shampoo in their bathroom, previously thinking that Bobbi had left it there way back. _He smells so good…_

“What?” Bucky looks up at Clint. He mumbled something.

Clint didn’t realize that he thought out loud. He curses internally. “Nothing. I said it smells like shoes in here.”

Bucky raises a brow, wondering where the hell did that statement come from, until both of them hear footsteps coming. Both Bucky and Clint stiffen as Bucky pushes himself closer to Clint to get a better view. There’s a long box hanging from the third level of the shelf behind Bucky that hinders his line of sight unless he switches positions with Clint. He should’ve thought of that earlier.

Nico looks ahead and sees the exit sign lit up. Bucky and his pal might’ve just ran off… _or_ they could’ve entered this room to his left. He slowly but surely walks towards it, his footsteps echoing in the hallway. 

Bucky instinctively grips Clint tighter in suspense. Clint jolts but doesn’t complain. 

“Sir?” The same employee who went out earlier is standing just behind Nico. “This is a restricted area. If you’re looking for washrooms they’re just near the self-checkout, the huge sign should be visible.”

Nico stares at the handle bars with clenched jaws.

Clint’s pretty sure he’s stopped breathing.

Nico pivots to face the man and smiles at him. “Right. My apologies.” He says, however shrugging unapologetically before walking away. He looks back with a glare once, scowling while going back to the supermarket. He’ll catch the Soldier off guard next time.

The man snorts and pulls his wagon further into the hallway, going into the big freezer room. So much for dumb customers.

When the employee had successfully fended off Nico Constantine, Bucky sighs and closes his eyes, leaning his forehead on Clint’s shoulder in relief. Clint releases the breath he was holding, subconsciously resting his head on Bucky’s, a hand conveniently placed on the small of Bucky’s back. 

Then, both of them frantically pull away from each other at the same time, with Bucky almost hitting the back of his head. There was a 15-second uncomfortable silence.

“So… Is he gone?” Clint asks, the scent of Bucky still lingering. He’s distracted, almost charmed.

“Think so.” says Bucky, avoiding Clint’s eyes. He’s embarrassed. He’s never been embarrassed this much.

“Can I just ask _who_ in the heck was _that_?”

“A... coworker I didn’t wanna see.” Bucky grumbles. “We should be good to go in a few minutes.”

That was some _intense_ hiding just for a coworker, Clint thinks. He couldn’t exactly judge though, maybe the coworker was a hell of a creep. Clint only nods and tries to take his foot off the rack, feeling it get numb already. 

Bucky takes his hand off Clint and from the upright he was holding, straightening his back and exercising his flesh arm a few times. He feels the temperature rising in the room _and_ in his face — his choice of clothing isn’t helping in any way. Is he nervous about whatever the fuck Nico was about… or because of _Clint_? To think of it, he wasn’t like this earlier, only when it was over and when he felt Clint’s stubble brush against his temple, and when he heard how loud Clint’s heart was _pounding_ when he was leaning on him. 

“We should go.” Clint suggests, stepping over the boxes on the floor while scooting out of the tiny space he’s in. Someone should probably clean this storage up. “And I mean, leave the groceries. Not like we paid or anything, let’s just go to the one at 88th Street.”

“Sure.”

Bucky watches Clint take the final hop out of the corner, his arm extended to Bucky for help. He swears he felt _shivers_ down his spine at the thought of having another physical contact with Clint again, which normally he doesn’t have any issues with. Bucky shakes his head in rejection and wades out of the sea of boxes by himself. 

The car ride to the other Walmart was nothing but dead air, and so was the whole grocery experience. Neither of the two decided to bring up what they felt in that room. Clint wonders if Bucky is mad. He’s thinking he’s too obvious about his crush, which is something he’s trying to be _subtle_ about, he swears.

On the contrary, Bucky is just confused _as fuck_. Not at Clint, but himself.

Clint and Bucky finish their grocery run and head home. Bucky took four heavy bags inside and let Clint carry the rest, making a beeline to his room. With a loud thump of the door, Bucky dives on his bed with a groan, face flat on one of his pillows. After a while (and when he couldn’t breathe anymore), he flips over and stares at the ceiling. He takes a fistful of his shirt and lifts it to his nose, the smell of Clint’s perfume clinging like ivy. 

Did he just _smile_ at himself?

Bucky’s phone rings. Answering, the voice washes out all the happy thoughts in his head.

“ _You haven’t reported back_.” Karpov reminds. 

“I’ve been having a bad headache and stayed in bed for a while. I’ll make sure to report tomorrow, don’t worry.” Bucky closes his eyes. Even through the static of the phone, he hates the sound of Karpov’s voice.

“ _Is that so?_ ” Karpov says, rolling his tinted window down. He’s parked just in front of Bucky’s new apartment, and he watched him and his roommate carry groceries inside. When agents like Bucky start to lie, it’s when it starts to go down. Karpov has seen it so many times. “ _You get well soon then_.”

“Is Constantine not available for you to bother?” Bucky rubs his eyes in frustration.

“ _This is_ your _mission, Winter Soldier._ ” Karpov reminds. “ _And a direct order from your department. This is not politics. We simply cannot let the Avengers and SHIELD get through us. We have acquired information about where you can usually encounter Hawkeye alone. Look at the file tomorrow and initiate the plan as soon as you can._ ”

In a beep, Vasily Karpov drops the call. Bucky sighs and puts his phone down, hurling it to the bottom of his bed. He takes his leather jacket off as well as his Clint-scented shirt, throwing it to the wall with a thud. 

_You’re not a damn schoolboy, Barnes,_ he tells himself, _and machines don’t feel._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for a longer wait :-( 
> 
> i'm active on twt though, if u have an acc let's [hang out](https://twitter.com/616buck)!!


	5. Chapter 5

Clint kicks a pebble out of his way as he walks through an alleyway in New York, adjusting his now dirtied mask while grumbling. He had just found out that despite being the _nearest_ person from the secret hideout a bunch of Swedish goons were at, Captain America decided to contact Thor instead, who was floating in fucking _space_. 

“What’d he mean Thor’s electricity was more convenient?” Clint scoffs to himself, the grip on his bow tightening that he could feel sharp edges dig into his fingers. “I have electro-disruptor arrows, for Christ’s sake! Could’ve told me to bring a whole quiver…”

Complaining won’t do Clint anything good, but boy is he _pissed._ He understands — he wants to understand — because if he knows anyone in the world who can make the most logical and rational decision, it would be Steve Rogers. 

He just wishes he doesn’t have to think that his teammates are doubting him. They should know he’s unquestionably as good as Natasha, because he _is_ , at least that’s what he believes. 

Clint looks ahead and finds a silhouette at the end of the alley. He raises his guard up immediately, swiftly taking an arrow and aiming at the figure. The stance and the way the left arm reflects the light of the nearby lamp post leads Clint into a conclusion of who it might be.

“Why are you after me?” Clint asks, “Who sent you?”

The man doesn’t speak, just like before. He slowly walks towards Clint, and the blinking light from a bulb allows Clint to see him much clearer — he’s wearing a black mask that covers half his face, except he also has brand new goggles. Natasha and Tony said it’s got this heat signature thing going on, and that it can also map out areas up to three miles in _seconds_. He is armed to the teeth, knife and gun holsters on each thigh. He also sports a utility belt and a chest holster. Dark, long hair reaches his shoulder.

The next thing Clint knows, the assassin is charging at him with two knives crackling with yellow electricity on the blades.

He seriously has got _enough_ electricity issues today.

“Shit!” Clint shoots the arrow, but his opponent rolls to dodge it. He takes the down time as an opportunity to start running the other way, taking another arrow, which happens to be one of the electro-disruptors. Clint grins and whirls around, but the masked assassin is gone.

Sneaking up from behind, Bucky immediately puts an arm around Hawkeye’s throat, putting him in a choke-hold. The Avenger is stronger than Bucky thought he was. The force he’s using to clutch his arm could probably leave a bruise if it wasn’t his metal one. Hawkeye makes a gagged sound, but he manages to elbow Bucky’s stomach. Bucky grunts against his mask, stumbling a few steps backward, both of his knives flying to his right. 

Clint rushes towards the Winter Soldier with a punch, hitting him square in the jaw. He could feel the sting in his knuckles, the hard mask for sure grazing his skin. As the assassin loses balance, Clint goes on top of him to hold him down, throwing and hurling more punches. He’s almost impressed that the mask nor the goggles don’t fall off (or at least, not this time).

The light in this part of the alley flickers for the last time, then it dies. The two men are enveloped with darkness, practically blindly attacking each other and hoping for the best.

After two to three punches, Bucky manages to use his right arm to block. When Hawkeye gets caught off guard, he uses the rest of his strength to tip the other over, switching their positions now. He pulls a mini knife from his thigh, keeping Hawkeye in place. Bucky takes one big breath and raises his arm before striking the man beneath him right to the heart — except Hawkeye manages to push his hand the last second and change the trajectory, striking him just below the collarbone instead.

Hawkeye yells in pain, and Bucky could feel him squirm underneath him. With a blink of an eye, Hawkeye is now holding an arrow that he got on the floor when some of his arrows spilled all over. He hits Bucky on the forehead, although it was not the usual arrowhead. It stuck to him like it had a suction cup, then he feels the immense cold coming from it.

_Freeze arrow._

It’s Bucky’s turn to make a pained shout, tumbling off Hawkeye. It’s like he’s experiencing a brain freeze, except it’s more intense, and he could feel it coursing through his entire body. He grips the shaft to pull it, of no avail, and he’s feeling weaker each second. 

Clint watches the man wriggle around, breathing heavy while holding the spot where he got stabbed. He grunts and groans and attempts to stand up, tottering to the trash bin beside him. He anchors himself to the bin for a second to make sure he’s composed enough before picking up his scattered arrows and scurrying away from the scene, leaving the now unconscious assassin. 

Bucky wakes up with bright lights above him that he couldn’t open his eyes fully. He hears faint beeping from the room, figures in white robes moving around in a blur. He could still feel a mask on his face, but lighter, and his body is feeling pins and needles, like frostbite. 

Bucky’s eyes become heavy once again, his surroundings spinning before he completely blacks out.

With a keen inhale, Bucky lunges upwards, realizing he’s in the medical facility in their headquarters. He looks to his right and there sits Alexander Pierce himself, unamused and displeased.

“You’ve been asleep for three days,” Alexander reveals, voice low, “Severe hypothermia. Your metal arm was _entirely_ frozen that they had to take it off you to fix it, and it was a handful to do so because it was also stuck on you. But don’t worry, all’s good. I’ll have it ready when you’re ready to go.” 

Bucky wets his chapped lips, turning to his left that is nothing but a sleeve, feeling a phantom limb for the first time in a while. 

“We thought we lost you, son.” Alexander continues, “I’m glad we didn’t. I really am.” Suddenly, the tone of his voice alters. “But how hard was it to defeat a man in hand-to-hand combat whose specialty was _long distance?_ ” 

Alexander stands up and steps towards Bucky, leaning on the mattress. His gaze pierces through Bucky, and Bucky couldn’t meet it so he decides to instead stare at the paper white fabric on his legs. 

“You are a _trained_ assassin. You were chosen for this mission because among everyone else you are believed — no, _trusted_ to get this job done. We didn’t expect to find you passed out in an alley almost frozen to death.”

Bucky swallows. Every word was like a _spit_ in the face. As if it wasn’t enough, Alexander grabs Bucky by the jaw, squeezing and turning his face towards him.

“A _failure_.”

Alexander finally straightens his back. He takes a sharp breath before turning around. Nico Constantine was already standing by the door, arms crossed with an arrogant smirk. He’s enjoying every ounce of this and Bucky knows it.

“How disappointing.” Nico says in a faux-solemn tone. “So much for being the _Winter_ Soldier.” 

Clint paces around the apartment, his phone on his hand. Lucky jovially follows his track, unaware of why they’re doing this.

26 missed calls and a heap of unread messages later, Bucky still hasn’t returned home.

Even though his stab wound still hurts, Clint had gone around asking if they’ve seen a man about five-foot-nine tall, with long brown hair and hazel eyes. 

No one had. 

It was the first thing he did after getting discharged from the hospital.

He couldn’t even print a single missing poster because he doesn’t have any photos of him. Besides worrying for his own condition that regrettably put him out of the team roster until he heals, Clint is worried that something bad has happened to his friend. 

What if the assassin took Bucky to get revenge on him?

Clint’s mind _races_ like a bat out of hell. He looks at his phone again, just in case he had missed at least one read notification.

Bucky  
  
**Wednesday** 2:15 PM  
Yeah, no sour cream please  
  
Okayyyy  
  
**Thursday** 10:00 PM  
Hey man, are you in your room? Haven’t seen you all day  
You’re too quiet  
**Thursday** 11:36 PM  
Good night  
**Friday** 9:25 AM  
Bucky, lmk if you want breakfast, I got scrambled eggs  
**Friday** 10:46 AM  
Everything ok? You’re not answering my calls either, dude. If you have a problem I’m here to listen  
**Saturday** 4:15 PM  
Bucky?  
Ok I KNOW you said not to do this but I checked your room and you’re not there. Where are you, man  
Have you been away since Thursday???  
Bucky please answer I’m worried  
Bucky :((  
**Sunday** 5:02 AM  
Pleaase be okay  
**Read** 4:18 PM  


Clint gasps at the time stamp. It was only six minutes ago, and it’s good news that Bucky still has access to his phone.

Suddenly, Lucky starts barking at the door. Before they both know it, the door flies open, and there stood Bucky — safe and sound and _angry._

“You went _into_ my room?” Bucky glares his eyes out at Clint. 

He doesn’t even remember if he left god-knows-what lying around that could get him caught. Failing the mission was already one thing, and he knows damn well either his own head or someone he loves might be the consequence if someone finds out about who he _really_ is. 

“What did I tell you? It was a _simple_ request, Clint–”

“Woah, of all the messages _that’s_ what you’re mad about?” Clint studies Bucky’s face, noting the black eye and a deep cut on the nose bridge. “I was worried about you!”

“How much of it did you see?” Bucky drops the bag containing his uniform and weapons on the floor and stomps straight to his housemate. 

“I didn’t–” Clint steps back.

Bucky continues to go forward. “Clint!”

“Nothing!” Clint finally shouts back once his back hits the wall. “It was a quick look, I just wanted to know if you’re still alive there! You were out for _three days_ , you fucking asshole! I was looking for you everywhere. Why are you so angry at me?”

Bucky falls silent. Migraine hits the side of his head again, making him wince. 

Alexander was Bucky’s only father-figure throughout the years whether Bucky liked it or not. He always strived to be the best of the best, proving him he was someone _worthy_ to be proud of. That he’s not up to no good. 

Bucky has achieved that, obviously. What he didn’t know is that one failure of a task will send him spiraling down, and that Alexander’s words hurt more than it should have.

It reminds him of the pain from _that_ night. He can hear thunder and rain against the window resonating in his head.

Clint looks at him in concern.

“Bucky? You okay?”

Bucky doesn’t look up, fists curled into a ball so tight they tremble. He bursts into tears, his body wracked by sobs. It’s the first time Clint — or _anyone_ besides Rebecca _—_ has seen him this vulnerable.

Clint never expected to see Bucky completely become like a helpless child weeping in front of him. He isn’t exactly someone who’s good at comforting friends, but Bucky needs him more than ever, and he’s all Bucky’s got.

He hushes softly, then takes Bucky by his uninjured side. With a soft thump, Bucky rests his head on Clint, burying his face on the crook of Clint’s neck. Clint’s shirt easily got soaked by tears. 

Thankfully, he didn’t mind.

Bucky could probably eat a horse right now. He was unconscious and on the brink of death for three days, so it’s certain he’d be pinched with hunger when he wakes up. Clint ordered him food from their favorite Greek restaurant and Bucky is devouring it all quickly. 

“What happened to you?” Clint starts from across the table, his arms folded. “And for the love of God, please, don’t say _nothing._ It’s all over your face.”

Bucky doesn’t answer. He continues to inhale the food, starved and parched. 

Clint _does_ deserve answers though, he thought. He didn’t think Clint would look for him if he’s honest, and he feels terrible for the troubles he had caused. After finishing four sticks of skewers, Bucky leans back to his chair and heaves a loud sigh.

Bucky will give Clint answers, but that doesn’t mean they’d be _entirely_ true. “I went to work and uh, got into an accident.”

“Jesus, _where_ do you even work? They must pay you compensation or something.”

“I work at a construction site. They haven’t paid me, only when I finally do my job _right._ ” Bucky says grittily, still bitter. “Boss offered me a place to stay.”

Clint doesn’t buy it entirely. His marks look like he was in a fight, and Clint would _know._ Even though he wants to respect Bucky’s privacy especially after invading it, he’s genuinely worried. “For three days?”

“We had to sort things out. I’m okay, Clint.”

“No you’re not. Look at my shirt.” Clint points at his top, “All tears and _possibly_ snot from you, dude. You’re not okay.”

Bucky sniffs, wiping any tear residue from his face. He snatches the bottle of orange juice and downs it in one go.

“I thought I was gonna get fired. That’s all.” Bucky says, putting the empty container down. 

Clint falls silent, deciding not to prod further. 

Bucky parts his lips, as if he was going to say something, but purses it shut instead. He stands up and takes all his trash to discard them.

“Thanks, Clint.” says Bucky, walking towards his room but not without looking back to Clint. Sure, he slept for too long already, but somehow he still feels heavy. Must be whatever drugs they used on him. “I owe you one.”

Clint offers a smile to lighten things up. “Just believe that I didn’t look for any porn stash under your bed and we’ll be even.”

Bucky chuckles and raises his middle finger, although it’s still hard for him to laugh. “Fuck off, Barton. I don’t have any.” He drags himself to his room, closing the door. 

“That’s what people who have porn stashes say!” Clint puts his hands on either side of his mouth as he shouts, grinning. 

He’s relieved that Bucky’s back. Whether he admits it or not, somehow, the house wasn’t the same without him.

_Everything is eye-straining red, the color fading to pitch black upwards. There’s smoke engulfing the area. The place is peculiar, but familiar. Clint has seen this_ too many times.

_Clint wades through the fog, seeing bright light from afar._

_He doesn’t want to go there, but he does._

_He takes a deep breath, slowly making out the figure where the light is from — a wreckage of a car. The smoke comes from the hood of it._

_Tightening his jaw, Clint walks towards the vehicle, recognizing every inch and detail of it. He remembers when he’d sit at the back going to school, and he remembers… the bad times._

_Clint looks over to the front seats._ Empty _front seats. As Clint furrows his brows at the vacant space, he feels a hand grab his shoulder_. _He turns around and sees his father, his resentful face veiled with blood. Clint gasps and stumbles back, propping himself on the car that scalds his palms._

_“You did this to me.” Clint’s father wails hauntingly. “You did this to us!”_

Clint wakes up in cold sweat, tears streaming down his cheeks. Another nightmare. 

He usually doesn’t get nightmares like this unlike when he was a kid. Even so, when he does, he can't escape it. He can’t wake up till it’s over.

Steadying his breathing, Clint recoils upon feeling the twang in his chest. He searches his hands for any burn scars before he buries his face behind it exasperatedly. He checks his phone and sees 4:21 AM. With a sigh, Clint stands up and heads to the door. His throat is dry and he might as well get a drink. 

Clint opens the door and, well, Bucky Barnes is standing there. They’re equally surprised at each other, but Bucky looks more embarrassed. 

Bucky doesn’t turn away though, instead, he looks straight to Clint and mouths “Are you alright?” slowly, recognizing that he’s probably not wearing his hearing aid. Plus, it’s dark.

Clint holds up a hand to signal Bucky to wait, closing the door because he’s got his unfolded Hawkeye costume lying on the floor, and because he’s half-naked and he doesn’t want Bucky to see his patched-up stab wound. Once he’s all dressed up (and once he has successfully thrown his costume in his closet, still unfolded) he meets Bucky who’s still on the same spot.

“Hey,” says Clint, keeping his voice down. “Why’re you up?”

“I... heard you moan,” Bucky answers. He takes a pause, finding words. “But in a bad way. You get it? I mean, like you were having a nightmare. Were you?”

Clint raises a brow, attempting not to smile. Bucky sounds so awkward, and he knows what he’s exactly thinking.

“Yeah, I get you. I was having a nightmare.” Clint confirms, clicking his tongue. “I’m fine though. I’m used to it, plus it’s not that often. How did you know I was having a nightmare _exactly_?”

Bucky shrugs. “My previous housemate had nightmares a lot. You sounded just like him, so I kinda got the gist of it. I usually had to wake him up so... I was going to check on you, but I wasn't sure. Moans are different.” 

Clint now full on giggles, covering his mouth when Lucky, who is sleeping by the door, moves. Bucky stifles a laugh too.

“Yup, I’m not hiding anyone there, don’t worry.” Clint reassures, patting Bucky on the arm. He then walks to the fridge, picking up bottled water and chugging it half. 

Bucky, on the other hand, is mentally slapping himself because _of course,_ Clint would know he must’ve been suspecting he’s smooching with somebody at 4 in the morning. He follows Clint to the kitchen, settling down on a dining chair quietly. 

“Wait, did I wake you up?” Clint realizes, gasping. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Bucky shakes his head, “I couldn’t sleep anyway… do you, um, wanna talk about it? Your dream.”

Clint stares at Bucky, his gaze softening. He closes the fridge’s door and leans on it. “I just kinda wanna try the hot chocolate we bought.”

Bucky understood. He’s confused, however, at the other idea. “It’s 84 degrees, Clint.”

“Why the hell did we buy it then? And look, you’re wearing long sleeves.”

Bucky sighs and he hates it when Clint’s right. Because of his metal arm, he doesn’t really own any other clothing with shorter sleeves. He ends up nodding, so Clint gets to work eagerly, careful with his injury. The only source of light for Clint to move around is the moonlight shining through the window, not wanting to wake Lucky up by turning the lights on.

Clint sits down to his usual seat once he’s done, pushing the _BLOW ME, I’M HOT_ mug at Bucky. They take a sip at the same time, noting that it really is a good brand, and that the commercial they watched it from was right. Bucky nods in amusement, humming.

“It’s good.” Clint agrees.

They drink in comfortable silence, the whizzing of cars in the distance the only sound accompanied by Lucky’s soft snores. Clint adjusts his legs underneath the table, brushing against Bucky’s intentionally. 

Bucky notices, slightly smiling on his mug. “You have too much legs.”

Clint snorts. 

Another moment has passed, then Clint puts his drink down. “Have you ever played truth or dare before?” 

Bucky tilts his head sideways. “In middle school.”

“Good enough, ‘cause I don’t think you’re sleepy yet either. We’ll have a twist though, we only get to say the truth. No dares, no running naked in the middle of the street.”

Bucky pulls his head back with a scoff. Bucky doesn’t like telling truths in particular. “What are we, 13? And isn’t this basically what you do on _dates?_ ”

“Well, this _obviously_ isn’t a date, we’re calling it a game.” Clint clears it up, though there’s a part of him that wishes otherwise. “Aw c’mon, this is a chance for us to get to know each other as housemates! Don’t worry, I won’t ask anything that’s too personal. Promise.”

Bucky takes another sip of his drink, then sighs. Might as well. Besides, he did say he owes Clint something.

Motioning his hand, Bucky sits straight. “Go ahead.”

With a grin of victory, Clint blissfully pulls his chair closer and clears his throat. “What’s your favorite color?”

Bucky’s surprised at the simplicity of the question. Looks like Clint is going to keep his words, after all. “Yellow.”

“Huh. That’s… shocking. Thought it’d be black.”

“It’s a _shade,_ not a color.” Bucky corrects him. “Anyway. Why _purple?_ ”

“Because I look good in it.” Clint answers, like it was crystal clear. “What’s your favorite movie?”

Bucky now falters. “...I don’t watch movies a lot, so I never developed a favorite.” 

“That’s sad. We should do a movie marathon then.” Clint decides, nodding to himself. 

Bucky continues, running out of good questions. “How’d you get your dog?”

“Oh, we’re going there?” Clint raises a brow. “Well. He… got injured because of me. He saved me, actually. He’s a smart boy. Smartest one I’ve met. I couldn’t leave him alone after that.”

Clint’s expression softens when he talks about Lucky. Bucky finds it amusing and a little cute. Clint genuinely loves the dog, and that says a lot about him.

Clint doesn’t even realize Bucky was staring at him all moon-eyed, sipping on his not-so-hot chocolate. “What was your dream job as a kid?”

Bucky takes a deep breath, averting his gaze once Clint looks back to him. Bucky doesn’t even remember if he had a dream job as a kid. He remembers he liked fighting bullies, he remembers he liked helping people. He wanted everyone _safe._ Then it clicks.

“I think I wanted to be a hero.” Bucky blurts out, wide-eyed and surprised by his answer as much as Clint is.

Clint is dumb-founded, blinking a few times. “A hero, huh.” He says quietly. 

Never in his life did Clint think he’d be in a group of superheroes. He thought he was going to teach archery until he got arthritis. But Captain America found him, saying he’s the best marksman he’s ever encountered and that he _needed_ his help, eventually joining him as an Avenger. He has known Tony longer though, who initially put up the offer, if only Clint hadn’t declined the first time for personal reasons. 

Bucky looked so _sincere_ saying his answer and it’s a rare moment. Clint doesn’t even know what to say solely because of Bucky’s expression.

“That’s… well. That’s adorable. I’m sure you’re a hero in your own way.”

Bucky sneers. _Yeah, sure._ He wishes he could say the same. He was this close to taking down one of the Avengers, and killing a hero would definitely not make him a hero.

Bucky purses his lips and shrugs, finishing his drink that has now gone cold. “Think I’m gonna head to bed.” 

“I’ll take it. You should go ahead.” Clint offers, swiping Bucky’s mug along with his own to put them in the sink. Bucky goes, but he still waits for Clint in the hallway. 

Their eyes meet, yet neither says anything. Bucky bites his lower lip down and enters his room first, and that’s when Clint decided to turn around and speak.

“Hey, Buck?”

Bucky halts, slightly turning his head. “Hm?”

“You build stuff, right?” 

Bucky takes a moment before realizing that he _did_ say he was a construction worker. “I guess..?”

Clint returns the pause, as if thinking. “Would you build me a shelf?”

Bucky scrunches his nose. “A shelf.”

“Mhm.”

Fully turning around to face Clint, Bucky sighs. “Go to sleep, Clint. That’s a really weird midnight thought.”

Clint scratches his cheek, searching Bucky’s face for approval. It’s either it’s too dark, or there’s _nothing._

“You’re probably right.” Clint says, resigned, turning his back to Bucky and hastily closing his door. 

Bucky stays there, huffing out a chuckle. Once he finally gets to his bed, he stares at the ceiling like another sleepless night, nothing new.

Except this time, he decides to pull his phone out.

He types ‘ _how to build a shelf easy’_ on Youtube and clicks the first video.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy happy birthday wendy ♡ u helped make this happen and i'm grateful, thank u for sharing ur braincell to me!!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just wanna clarify that clint's costume is his original one with the mask and all!! :]

Clint had gone to work early this morning, and Bucky’s temporarily out of commission because of the incident. Pierce thought he’d give him some time to compose himself because the freeze arrow may still have effects on his body. He’s giving Bucky another chance at this assignment, but if he fails _again,_ he’s sending Leonid Novokov instead.

The doctors who tended to him were right. His chest aches here and there, but it’s nothing serious. He still managed to go to the nearest hardware store and get a few pieces of wood, some nails, whatever the video from Youtube had listed to build a shelf. Bucky sits on the floor, the materials scattered around him. Lucky’s cooling off on the side by napping in front of the fan.

Bucky takes a deep breath and takes the hammer, then the hacksaw. He’s not even a _real_ carpenter, and he’s lied to housemates so many times before. That being said, he didn’t have to prove his skills like this. When he said he was an ER nurse, he didn’t have to go and stitch a wound to prove it (although he still did, when he cut his leg from jumping over barbed wire a few days later).

Bucky tosses the tools on the floor, leaning his head against the back of the couch in frustration. Seriously, what the _hell_ is he doing? 

Taking out his phone, Bucky plays the same video he saw two days ago so he can build while watching. He obviously struggles, _fuck,_ but he continues. If he had only bought an Ikea shelf instead and assembled it, he wouldn’t have to be so frustrated. For this one, he had to buy a measuring tape for the wood length’s accuracy. Everything sucks and he made it happen, only because he thought Clint would be happy if he — _oh._

Halfway through getting the electric drill he stops at the realization. He’s doing this because of Clint? To make him happy? And recently, he’s been gazing and smiling and caring too much for Clint and–

“Fuck _me._ ” He curses, cradling his own face with a sigh. 

Lucky whimpers and carefully jogs to Bucky, checking out if he’s okay. He lays his head on Bucky’s lap, huffing.

Bucky notices the dog and places a hand on his head, stroking it. “I’m alright, bud.”

Lucky barks and sits up. He tilts his head to his right, as if asking what’s wrong.

“Lucky… I think. I’m not sure, but–” Bucky swallows, eyebrows furrowed. “I’ve been thinking–”

A shrieking _meow_ is heard from outside, alerting both Bucky and the dog. It gets followed by growling and barking. Their door is open because it’s too damn hot in Manhattan, then suddenly a white shadow zooms inside the house through the crack of it. The howling gets louder, so Bucky stands up and checks it out.

It’s a Dobermann at their doorstep, seemingly searching for whatever came inside the house. Lucky is already competing with the loudness of barking from behind and it’s honestly making Bucky’s head hurt more.

“Shoo.” Bucky waves his hand, attempting to ward off the dog, but it doesn’t budge. It keeps pawing forward, wanting to go inside. “Shoo! Hey! Get outta here.”

Shortly, a blonde woman with a bob comes running from across the street, panting heavily. She’s in workout gear, and Bucky assumes this fella right here is her dog.

“Twist!” The woman shouts, and the dog briefly turns its head back, but continues to bark. “Twist, c’mere! Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.” 

The owner of the dog picks the leash from the ground, tugging on it a bit. The dog calms down, huffing a little. “I’m sorry. Twist likes to chase the street cat from around here, that pesky thing! I called animal control for it but it keeps escaping.”

“A street cat?” Bucky repeats, humming. So that’s what the white creature was. 

Another man comes with a snare pole, the NYC ACC patch on his shirt indicating who he is.

“Good morning sir, did the cat happen to get inside your house by any chance?” The man, his name tag says Chris, questions. “If so, I can take–”

“No,” Bucky spurts out, holding the door knob tighter. “It didn’t. It ran that way,” With his free hand, he points to the left side of the street. 

The woman looks at the animal control guy, obviously doubting Bucky’s direction.

“Are you sure? My dog–”

Bucky cuts the woman off, “I’m sure, _ma’am._ I bet my life on it. I wouldn’t have let a street cat get into my home just like that. Have a wonderful day.”

Twist barks again, but Lucky counters it with a stronger one, making the other dog hide behind its owner. The man shrugs his shoulder and goes back to his van, tossing his equipment inside. Meanwhile, the woman gives Bucky a certain look of disapproval, in which Bucky responds with a jeering grin before closing the door. 

“Go look for the kitty, boy!” Bucky commands Lucky, whisper-shouting as the dog yip yaps before starting to sniff around. 

Lucky checks every corner of the apartment, bolting to the bathroom and Bucky’s room which door was left ajar. It wasn’t long for Lucky to finally head over to the kitchen, finding the cat hiding under the table. The dog goes and gets Bucky, leading him to where the cat is.

Bucky ducks down to see the stray trembling. It injured its left front leg since it’s lifting it up from the floor, a bit of red visible. Its white fur is almost brown, dirtied by the streets. It also stinks as hell. It’s eyes, however, couldn’t get any prettier. They’re like the ocean and the sky trapped in two orbs. 

“Hi,” Bucky mutters, offering a hand. Maybe it would come to him. “Hi, li’l fella. Come here. I won't hurt you.” 

The cat hisses, pulling back from Bucky. It tries to go further into a corner since it’s surrounded.

“Come on. You’re a good kitty,” Bucky adjusts his position, now extending both arms. He gestures his hand, making sounds with his mouth that could potentially make the cat approach him. “Here, kitty.”

Hesitant, the cat curls itself up, closing its eyes. It seems like it’s getting weaker. It might not have eaten yet. 

Bucky goes to the pantry and rummages through a bunch of potato chips and crackers, taking out a can of tuna. Clint was supposed to put it in his pasta this weekend. Bucky will just buy him another one, he knows Clint will understand. He returns to the poor cat, taking his glove off to open the can with his metal hand. 

Lucky tilts his head at the action, confused.

The cat immediately smells the food. It limps its way towards the can Bucky is holding while he slowly but surely steps backwards, having the cat exit the table. Lucky whimpers and walks away, allowing Bucky to do the work. 

Bucky places the can down as he goes back to his room to get his brown bomber jacket. He has to take this cat to a veterinarian, and he doesn’t have a carrier to put it into. A jacket should work, he can cradle it inside on their way to the hospital. As the cat finishes the tuna, Bucky watches the cat sniff around. He puts his right hand in front of its face, letting it smell him, to familiarize. Unpredictably, the cat meows softly as it rubs its head on Bucky’s palm.

Bucky practically _melts._ He coos and pets the poor cat before gently heaving it up, grateful that it doesn’t try to squirm off him. The cat meows faintly again as Bucky tucks it inside his jacket.

“You’re okay, sweetheart.” Bucky assures the feline, trailing a finger down its forehead soothingly. “You’re okay.”

“Yeowch! Hey, be gentle. Aren’t you a doctor?” Clint yelps on the medical exam table, scoffing at Bruce who’s currently changing his wound’s bandage. 

“You’re _moving,_ Barton. Maybe if you stayed still.” Bruce retorts, pushing his glasses up using his wrist. “How’d you get this, by the way? It’s pretty deep. Based on where you got stabbed, it looks like the person was going for the heart.”

Clint sighs, relaxing on the table. He turns his face away from the light. “Yeah, most likely. Remember the guy who killed Stern a few weeks back? He killed my friend’s boss too. Now he’s after _me._ ”

Steve walks into the lab, his shield fitting his broad shoulders just right, looking all roughed up. Tony trails from behind, hopping out of his armor and going straight to Bruce’s spare office chair with a loud whine. Both heroes are beaten up, with Tony looking like he’s holding his ribs for support, and Steve with his swollen eye and cut lip and everything in between. 

“Looks like I’ve got more patients,” Bruce clicks his tongue, patting Clint on the chest lightly for him to stand up. “Now, what happened to you two? I swear you guys could just go to the hospital.”

Clint groans as he rises to his feet. Tony tosses him his shirt before taking his place on the table. “Omega Red, that son of a bitch. Took a hell of a beating but he’s been subdued. His motives are still unclear though.”

“You said the assassin’s after you now, Clint?” Steve asks, leaning on the wall.

Clint’s still mad about the Swedish mission thing, so he doesn’t look back to Steve. “Yep.”

“You have any idea why?”

“Nope.” 

Clint’s short answers basically give it away. Steve stares the floor down, arms crossed. He shifts in his position slightly when Clint comes to grab his quiver and bow near his feet. 

“Thanks for the help, Bruce, I’ll see you around. Tony.” Clint bids goodbye as his teammates wave at him, Tony yelping when Bruce pokes his rib. 

“Clint?”

“Talk to you later, Cap.”

“Clint.” Steve calls again, following Clint out of the lab. He sighs exasperatedly, opening and closing his mouth, unable to form words. 

Clint jogs down the stairs while putting his mask on. He slings his quiver around his shoulder before suddenly stopping, twirling to finally look at Steve. “Look, Cap. You gotta get yourself checked-up there.”

“I know you’re still mad.” Steve starts, and _god_ does Clint hate how composed and smooth Steve is because he’s basically just trying not to cry right now. “And I _truly_ feel bad about it. I just needed to shut down a secret facility, and I had to trick them into giving them more power before Thor could make the equipment overload with it.”

“ _Or_ , I could’ve sneaked in and cut the wires or something while you try to negotiate with them. I don’t know, there are _clearly_ other plans to execute but I guess I’m not fit enough for the job.”

“It’s not that simple. We needed the main machineries eradicated before New York explodes from below. They were huge, you’ll know when you see it–”

“Can’t see it if I wasn’t _there._ ” Clint says, indignant. He bites his teeth down firmly, reaching for his temple. “Remember when you… when you said you _needed_ me on the team? I don’t even know if you feel the same still.”

Steve remains quiet, eyes not leaving Clint. 

“We _do_ need you, Hawkeye, that’s why I’m concerned about you. Russian slugs, the assassin, now Omega Red. This might all be connected. We don’t know if they want something from us or from _you._ ”

“Well, if they want something from me, they’re not gonna get it. If they want something from us, they’re _also_ gonna have to go through me _first._ ” Clint points at himself before turning around and walking away. 

“And I assure you Steve, I _can_ handle it.” 

“Mr. Barnes?” Someone calls from inside a room and Bucky leaps up as fast as he could, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. It’s stained with small patches of blood from the cat earlier.

Bucky enters the room, seeing the cat sleeping on a table with its leg wrapped with bandages. The cat is all clean and basically looks like a living cloud with its pure white fur. The nurse is taking her latex gloves off as she heads to Bucky with a comforting smile.

“It was from something sharp, luckily it wasn’t too deep. She still had to be sedated though. She wouldn’t let us do it. First time at the rodeo?” The nurse asks.

 _So it’s a she,_ Bucky thinks. He nods. 

“I assume she’s a stray?” The woman takes a chart from the nearby counter. “Good thing you took her here right away, or else the bacteria might have caused worse infections.”

“You’re not gonna give her to the ACC right?” Bucky queries, glancing over to the cat. “I’ve done my homework. I don’t trust ‘em.”

“We’ve sent cats and dogs there and they don’t usually do that. Only when circumstances get rough, and when it’s the best thing they could do.”

It was ironic for him to doubt a kill shelter considering his line of work. What they do at 20% is what he does out-and-out. Heaving a breath, Bucky closes his eyes. “Is it... possible to adopt her then?” 

“100%. We’ve checked, she isn’t microchipped either. She’s lucky she doesn’t have ear mites or fleas. You really wanna adopt her?” The nurse asks again, putting a hand on her waist. 

Bucky folds his arms.

Aw, _shucks_. Why the hell not.

“Yeah,” Bucky answers, prompting the nurse to nod and write stuff down on her chart. “Yeah, I’ll bring her home.”

“Great. We’ll have to do a few more things to get her set up and you guys should be able to go home! Any names for the kitty?” 

Bucky tucks hair behind his ear, pausing for a few seconds. Name, name, name.

“Alpine.”

The nurse beams. She looks back to Alpine, watching her stir in her sleep. The sedation must be wearing off. 

“You’re Alpine’s _hero,_ Mr. Barnes.”

Clint goes home, feeling _extra_ shit about what happened earlier at the Avengers HQ. He admits he kind of shouldn’t have confronted Steve about it but what can he do? 

When he opens the door, Lucky is already waiting, barking and jumping at him enthusiastically. There’s a pile of wood neatly gathered in a corner with their tool box and a bunch of other new tools. 

“Bucky?” He calls out, remembering that his housemate should be here today. 

Lucky barks and runs, coming back with a piece of paper in his mouth.

_Clint,_

_Had to go somewhere_

_Lucky knows_

_If there’s blood under the table it isn’t mine_

_Be home soon_

_\- Bucky_

“Is this a poem?” Clint squints his eyes before he folds it into fours, putting it in his pocket. Bucky’s handwriting is like chicken scratch but it’s the first time Bucky has ever written to Clint so he’s keeping it. 

“Man, I was wondering if we could eat somewhere today, I guess he’s out already…” Scratching the rear of his head, Clint exhales heavily. How else can he de-stress?

Thankfully, he has another idea.

Katie  
  
Kate!!!!!! Are you busy  
kinda  
why  
Wanna go to the archery range with me? :0  
i’m already here :P got ur plier with me if u wanna get it  
Cool! Ok, I’ll be there  


“You wanna go with me to meet Kate?” Clint bends down to talk to his dog who immediately answers with a bark. “Okay, let’s go for a walk!”

The indoor archery range Clint used to work at isn’t far from his current apartment. It was his cardio every morning, walking about four blocks, getting two XL coffee for himself from C.C. Café on his way there. He would’ve ridden a cab but besides the fact that he needed the exercise, traffic jams are _horrible._ Walking was and has always been ideal.

He met Kate there when she was 16 — about five years ago. Whenever it gets brought up, Clint doesn’t believe how time flew by like a wink, and how much Kate had improved ever since he first taught her. He’s pretty sure she’s at least at par with him now. Sometimes, Clint thinks about retiring as Hawkeye and passing the mantle to Kate, but how would Kate even react to a whole new responsibility which could be as big as the world — _literally._

Lucky walks fast when he’s excited, and Lucky _loves_ playing with Kate. He’s basically dragging Clint at the moment to get to her fast. Clint doesn’t mind, because to be fair, he hasn’t taken Lucky out for a walk in a while.

Three stumbles later, Clint sees the C.C. Café’s sign, which indicates that they’re close. Even though he basically lives around the area, Clint hasn’t gone to this side of the city in a long time. Seeing the café made him a bit nostalgic. The simpler, pre-Avenger time.

Clint’s attention gets captured by the establishment across the street. It’s a bank, but there’s still unfinished parts of it that tower the first two floors. It doesn’t seem like they’re doing something about it though, there are no cranes or what not. Clint lets Lucky lead, inspecting the bank intently from afar. 

It just doesn’t feel right.

Clint pulls Lucky’s leash enough to make the canine stop. He positions beside a newspaper stand, taking a copy and pretends to read, peering at the top of it.

There are men — one, two… five of them. They don’t seem like security personnels, not even bodyguards. They came out from a gray van and one of them cautiously buries a _pistol_ behind him. 

Are they _robbers?_ In broad daylight? 

Clint kneels down and holds Lucky’s face. “Listen. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Lucky doesn’t understand why he’s staying, but he licks Clint’s nose, enough for Clint to know that Lucky’s good with it. He tells the vendor to look after his dog for a while, and if it’s okay if he can borrow her lilac sunglasses. She lets him.

Clint jogs across the street, stealthily crouching behind a car near enough to overhear the men. Another guy walks out of the bank, greeting the group with a smile. He’s wearing a matching navy blue suit, but his hair was down to his shoulders with a colour the same as Kate’s. 

“We’ve been waiting for you! Do you have them?” The suit guy says in a thick, obvious Russian accent. Clint almost swears, connecting the dots in his head.

“Yes, it has passed the initial tests, it just needs to be in the final phase.” One of the men replies, their accent quite different. Like German, Clint guesses. Clint takes a closer inspection, and there’s a briefcase being handed to the suit guy, its sides glowing blue like it has LED lights inside. “Are you sure you’ll be able to take it?” 

“Of course, of course. Our people here are tougher than steel. Would you like to go inside so you can talk to Mr. Pierce? He’d love to thank you personally.” 

A name. Pierce? Who’s Pierce? Sounds menacing. Clint wants to go nearer, but _if_ he gets caught he doesn’t have anything to use as self-defense. He’d be outnumbered and he doesn’t even know what’s inside the case. What if he calls Cap–

No. He can do this all by himself.

The group chatters more in a rather hushed voice before bursting out into a laugh. Clint isn’t able to hear the rest of what they’re saying as they move into the bank — unless he follows them. Maybe he can pretend to be a customer.

Clint decides that that’s a good idea and stands up, straightening his tee and heads to the bank a few meters behind the group. They’re talking much lower now, probably because there are other people around. At this point however, Clint is careful enough to contemplate whether these really are civilians _or_ accomplices.

The group turns to a corridor to the left that leads to a staircase to the second floor. Clint falls behind to avoid suspicion, leaning on the wall with a big inhale. He adjusts his glasses, which is _genuinely_ a lame ass disguise, then swivels to the corridor’s entrance.

“Clint?”

Turning back around, Clint sees Bucky with Lucky who’s wagging his tail, his leash around Bucky’s left wrist. Bucky also carries a pet porter and three bags on his right. Clint is pretty sure he saw a white fluff move around inside the porter.

“Bucky? What are you doing here?” 

“I… work around here. See the construction site? I saw Lucky nearby and he basically dragged me to you. What are _you_ doing here?”

Clint struggles to find the right excuse for a bit. “I came here to withdraw money. I didn’t know they allowed dogs.”

Bucky sighs. He walks towards Clint and hands Lucky over, bouncing the bags he’s carrying. “Well, they do. You done?”

Clint takes one more look at the corner. They’re gone. He clenches his jaw and takes Lucky’s leash. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m done. What’s that? Is that a puppy?”

“It’s a cat.” Bucky says, lifting the carrier with a small smile. Alpine’s bright blue eyes glisten, making Clint gasp. “I’ll explain later at home. Let’s go?”

“Okay. Wait, no! I gotta go meet Kate. I told her I’ll come visit the range with Lucky.” Frantically, Clint takes his phone from his pocket, only to be greeted by four missed calls and 12 text messages. He groans. “I forgot… I’m doomed.”

“Go ahead then,” Bucky replies, looking around the bank. Thankfully, there isn’t anyone he knows from the department _below,_ but he’s still eager to get out of here. “I gotta bring the cat home. I’ll see you later?”

Clint hums as Lucky barks and starts running off, pulling his owner with him. Clint laughs and looks back to Bucky, waving him off.

Once Clint is away, Bucky turns to the bank with a heavy stare. Clint can’t find out about this place, and they absolutely can’t find out about Clint. When Alpine meows for the first time since they’ve left the hospital, Bucky lifts her up once again so she can see his face.

“Sorry, sorry. We’re going home, Al. I know.” Bucky reassures the cat and finally heads the other way, hoping that Clint never comes back to this place.

Meanwhile, the group from earlier returns to the lobby led by the same person.

“Why did we go back here, Leo?” One of the men questions. 

Leonid looks over to the door with a stern expression. He noticed, but he wasn’t really going to let whoever that was to tail them. He thought he’d be able to confront the man, yet he disappeared out of nowhere. 

“Sorry, it was the other way. We just had to get rid of... an obstacle. Please follow me downstairs, gentlemen.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Tony. I’m not going.”

“Come _on,_ Clint. You’re not usually a party pooper. Bring a date, or two! Doesn’t matter.” Tony slings an arm around Clint, making Clint roll his eyes. 

Tony’s having another company party for Stark Unlimited. He does this at least twice a month, no one has to pay, all his. Actually, it’s for Resilient’s successful launch of a new Starkforce E-32 car model to compete with Musk. Clint likes cars, he does like parties, it’s just… he doesn’t like looking for dates.

He could go alone, but he’s not sure if that would do him any better. People _still_ ask about Bobbi, for fuck’s sake. 

Not that he’s bitter about Bobbi. She was lovely, she was great. Probably _too great_ , if he’s honest.

“Oh my god, yeah, I love parties!” Kate squeals, stomping her feet excitedly. She pushes herself and leans back her chair as Clint catches the backrest, shoving her in place. She’s visiting Clint for no reason like she had always done, usually ransacking his fridge for dessert. “I didn’t know you worked for Tony Stark?”

This time though, Clint monitored her because some of them are Bucky’s. You wouldn’t wanna mess with that man’s chocolate cheesecake.

“I _don’t,_ ” says Clint, sitting on the armrest of their couch. He licks his hand as melting ice cream trickles down, not wanting to stain his new jeans, at least not for the fourth time in the last 10 minutes. “We work together — we’re… we’re uh, we’re more like business… partners.”

Kate blinks in bafflement. “You’re… what now?”

Clint flaps a hand, dismissing his own statement. “Nothing. Don’t think about it. What matters is what we’re going to wear. You have 12 hours to get some fancy schmancy dress.”

“Me? Ha.” Kate blows a raspberry and rises from her seat, pointing her popsicle stick at Clint. “I’m worried about _you._ I’ve never even seen you in a blazer. Wait, I did _once_ in my high school graduation.”

Clint, on the other hand, actually has a guaranteed tuxedo courtesy of Tony. He and the rest of the Avengers will get their own tailored formal wear with the help of Tony’s famous designer friend, Janet. Kate doesn’t need to know about that though.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll at least make sure not to fetch you in a graphic tee and ripped jeans.” Clint grins, eating into his ice cream, scrunching his face at the coldness. 

Bucky comes out of his room, groggy from his nap. His hair, which he always puts into a bun nowadays, is all messy and unkempt. He jolts in surprise upon seeing Kate. He immediately wipes his mouth for any saliva trail, fixing his hair afterwards. 

“Sorry, didn’t know we had a visitor.”

Kate waves her popsicle at Bucky as a greeting. Bucky still isn’t sure about how he feels about the girl, especially after what happened at the donut shop. He gives her a curt smile before looking at Clint, raising his brows in question.

Clint stares at Bucky for a while before responding, whether to let Bucky’s gesture sink in or just for the sake of a subtle loving gaze. “Oh! Uh, we… are planning to go to a party tomorrow.” 

Suddenly, Alpine walks out of Bucky’s room, cautious about her new surroundings as well as the new person. So far she has chosen to spend most of her time in Bucky’s room. She’s especially wary around Lucky.

Kate agapes, immediately squatting to woo the cat towards her. “Hi baby!” She says, but there’s no reaction; Alpine just keeps her head straight, walking to the kitchen to avoid Lucky in the living room.

“Aww.” Kate sighs. “Cats are always so cheeky.”

“No,” Bucky shakes his head. “You see, there’s that, by the way.” He goes to where Alpine is, stopping just behind her. He then proceeds to snap his fingers by her ear a few times.

No response.

“Usually, cats are very sensitive to sounds. They’d flick their ears or turn to it. We’ve tried at the vet, I’ve tried here. The doctors said it’s common for white cats with blue eyes, though not all of them.”

“She’s deaf too.” Clint concludes, finishing his ice cream. 

Bucky nods. He walks back to where Kate and Clint are. “It was congenital. I don’t know how to communicate with her,” Bucky admits, crossing his arms. “She always gets startled.”

“Hm.” Clint glances at the cat who’s sitting on the counter and looking at the window to her right. There’s pigeons by the sidewalk. She seems entertained. “Try getting her attention using lights, maybe? Laser or your phone’s flashlight?”

Clint takes his phone at once, turning the flashlight on. He shines the light to Alpine’s direction, making it blink by putting his finger on and off the source. It effectively catches the cat’s attention as she meows, turning her head towards the group.

“See? That’s one step. You might wanna teach her how to understand sign language so she knows when food is ready, etcetera. For example, this is _come,_ ” Clint uses both hands and protrudes only his index fingers, making an upward circular motion inwards. 

“And this is _stay._ ” He then forms a Y-shape with his one hand before pushing his knuckles forward and low with it.

“Does Lucky know those?” Kate queries.

Clint shows a toothy grin as he bobs his head, a bit proud.

Bucky does the actions Clint had said earlier a few times to get it in his mind. Come and stay. Come and stay. Kate joins Bucky in practicing, comparing their motions side by side. He nods to himself in acknowledgement, then to Kate. 

“Good job! I didn’t think I’d be teaching signing to others, to be honest.” Clint then looks to Alpine who has adorably drifted off on the counter, feeling a gloved hand on top of his own all of a sudden. He peers below, then to Bucky’s face, parting his mouth.

Bucky presses their hands together, his lips quirking into a thin smile. “Thank you. Really.”

Clint meets Bucky’s gaze and he swears the world _stops._ He takes a deep inhale, flustered as fuck, but doesn’t dare move Bucky’s hand away. Everyday his housemate does _something_ to intensify his crush on him, and though Clint thinks there’s uncertainty in what Bucky truly feels for him, it makes Clint want to risk it all. He’ll never know if he never tries, after all.

Kate coughs wryly, breaking whatever kind of love spell that was around Bucky and Clint. She darts her eyes from one of them to another as Bucky furtively withdraws his hand. 

Clint wants to _scream._

“Can I… Can I borrow Clint for a sec, Bucket? Thanks.” Kate takes Clint’s wrist, pulling him to the opposite side of the room, just by the door.

Hurriedly looking back twice to Bucky, Clint walks with Kate begrudgingly. 

“Okay, what do you want from me. What’s your play here.” Kate starts in a hushed tone, placing her hands on her waist.

“Me! You’re the one who dragged me here.” Clint answers in the same volume, keeping himself close to the woman.

”No, dummy. Why did you ask _me_ to go to the party?”

Clint frowns. “So I can’t ask a friend to go to a party now?”

Kate rolls her eyes. “But you like _him,_ don’t you?” She raises her thumb and points at Bucky.

Clint follows Kate’s finger, audibly and dreamily sighing.

It was to Bucky, who’s softly blowing at Alpine’s face to wake her up. She opens her eyes and meows, then Bucky grins, his dimples becoming more prominent.

“You’re hopeless.” Kate turns around, fluttering a hand in the air. She spins to face Clint again, “Why don’t you just go and ask him?”

“Hey! It’s complicated.” Clint explains, now pointing his finger at Kate. They are, in fact, still whispering at each other. “I don’t even know if he _likes_ me. Honestly, he’s probably just tolerating me at this point. He probably likes _my dog_ more than me! Well, that’s actually a li’l _cute_ but–”

Kate sandwiches Clint’s face between her hands with a small slap, steadying him so he looks straight at her. Clint blinks a few times. 

“You’re a handsome, handsome man, Clint.” Kate reminds, earnest. “You’re really kind, and you take care of me a lot, I’m _sure_ you take care of him too. You’re really likeable. You cook the best Garlic Lemon Tuna Pasta in the world… given that it’s the only thing you can cook.” 

Clint pouts his lips, the only thing he can do while being squeezed together by Kate. “Tha’s sho nash of you to shay, Kay.”

And so, Kate removes her hands, smiling at Clint before poking his chest. “Now, you ask him out. I’ll be fine. I got tons of other parties to attend to.” 

Clint inhales a very deep breath, turning towards Bucky who seemingly just finished taking a call, all while massaging Alpine’s head. 

“Okay.” Clint huffs out to himself. “Okay, I will. I can do this.”

He’s _Hawkeye,_ he’s got nothing to fear about. He’s been in multiple relationships and a divorce. He’ll be fine. He and Bucky are friends. It’ll go nothing but well.

Kate and Clint walk back to Bucky, with Clint putting up a grin, hoping it doesn’t look too forced. He says he doesn’t fear, but he’s sure as hell nervous.

Bucky makes a double take before looking at the two, planting his phone in the back pocket of his shorts. “Hey.”

“I’m thinking,” Clint says, glancing at Kate a few times, “No, I’ve thought about it, actually. I thought I’d invite you to the party. To go with me. Will you?”

Bucky wets his lips and gazes to the floor, meekly rubbing his nape. He remains quiet for a while.

“Ah… I’d love to.”

Clint’s face brightens.

“...But I just got a call from the boss. I, um. Gotta go to work tomorrow. Sorry, Clint.”

Clint’s face droops.

“I’ll… make it up to you, okay?” Bucky smiles apologetically, shrugging his shoulders. He glimpses at Kate. “You guys have fun. Thanks for the invite though.” 

Bucky’s phone buzzes again, Nico’s name popping up. He scowls, heading to his room once again before taking the call. 

As the door slams, Kate pats Clint’s back remorsefully. Alpine hops off the counter, careful with her injury before rubbing herself on Clint’s leg for comfort. 

Bucky adjusts his leather fingerless gloves in the hallway, power-walking with his distinct gait due to his metal arm. He’s exceptionally irritable today, knowing that he could be anywhere but here. Instead, he’s in their headquarters for an ‘important meeting’ when he’s supposed to be ‘at rest’. Not that he needed more time to do so. He just doesn’t want to be here. 

With his mind being preoccupied, Bucky doesn’t notice a guy in front of him until he is only a few steps away. Dark, short hair that’s moussed up, a pair of goggles similar to him around his neck, a modified leather uniform akin to the Soldiers. A new face. 

“You look young.” Bucky speaks.

“You’re _the_ Winter Soldier.” The guy — the boy responds. 

“Unfortunately.” Bucky retorts, “How old are you?”

The boy takes a second, like he’s hesitant. “16.”

Bucky sharply breathes in, crossing his arms. This kid’s making the same mistake as he did before — trusting the wrong people and allowing one foot in the grave. The thing is, this kid’s even _younger_ than when he joined. He didn’t know Pierce is employing people as young as fucking _16,_ and frankly, Bucky has gotten more pissed off.

“You got a family?” 

“Both parents are dead.” He says, not even an ounce of grievance in his voice. 

Bucky stares the boy down, his jaw tightening. He propels a sigh. “Look, kid–”

“My name is RJ.” 

“RJ. Get outta here while you can. I’m telling you this already. This isn’t like a fun, action movie. Everything they’ve said and will say to you? Lies.”

RJ doesn’t yield, still holding down Bucky’s stare. He doesn’t speak either.

Bucky keeps his voice down, leery. “You are making a _very_ dumb fuckin’ decision, RJ. You need to get out of here, _ASAP._ Make an excuse, I don’t care, while you’re not in too deep–”

“Winter Soldier! What’s taking so long?” 

Bucky pivots around as quick as he can. Pierce is waiting at the end of the hallway where his office is located, impatient. Bucky turns to RJ again, but he has disappeared in thin air.

As Bucky enters Pierce’s office, he notices the two others standing in line in front of Pierce’s table. He positions himself reluctantly right beside Nico, copying the same stance the two have. 

Now that they’re all together in the same room, one could see how the three assassins look alike. Bucky is wearing a variant uniform today with his metal arm hidden, and if they all cover their faces with their masks and goggles, they’d be hard to differentiate especially in the distance and the dark — their expertise. 

One could only tell them apart with their hair color: Leonid has black, Nico has a darker shade of brown, almost red.

Alexander Pierce marvels at the trio, his most deadliest ones, his most prized possessions. Leonid and Nico both stand so proud, with Bucky knowing that they enjoy what they’re doing. Bucky couldn’t even fathom how he managed to stomach all this for 12 years, and yet, it’s all he’s good at.

“We’re increasing numbers,” Alexander announces, “and I want the three of you to be in charge of the training. No one else can do it better. While one of you is out on a mission, the rest will be staying to show the newbies how we move around here.”

“Yeah, about that.” Bucky breaks his stance and chimes in as Leo rolls his eyes in irk. “What the fuck is a 16-year-old doing here?”

Alexander shrugs nonchalantly. “He was looking for a job. I gave him one. _You_ know that feeling the best, Winter Soldier.”

“He’s just a _kid,_ ” Bucky grits his teeth. 

“That _you’re_ going to train, yes.” Alexander responds, unfazed. 

“God, you’re always making it about you, Barnes.” Nico jibes. 

That was it for Bucky. He grabs Nico by the collar, his metal arm’s plates whirring and adjusting to heave the other man upwards. 

“You say one more fucking thing, Constantine. I’ll shove my entire fist down your throat and flip you inside out.” 

“ _Oooh,_ ” Nico croaks out a taunt despite being basically lifted to the air. “Scary Winter Soldier.” 

“Enough.” Alexander interjects. He rests his back onto his chair, cracking his knuckles as he watches Bucky finally let Nico go. “You know what, you’re dismissed, James.”

“What? This prick–”

“ _Dismissed._ Be here tomorrow at 10. You’re up first since you’re on break.” 

Bucky sneers. He glowers at Nico and walks out of the door, leaving with a loud thud. Just when Nico decides to follow, Alexander speaks up. 

“No, you and Novokov are staying.”

Nico and Leonid glance at each other, with Nico going back to his position from earlier, fixing his disheveled uniform.

“This isn’t the only progress we’ve been making. You three are candidates for a _serum_ we’re developing.”

Leonid smiles. Of them all, he’s the most excited about it, having learned what it does and what it’s fully capable of. “I heard if it becomes successful, Department X will have _three times_ the strength of Captain America.”

“Exactly.” Alexander confirms.

Nico angles his chin upwards. “What’s the deal? Are we _really_ after the Avengers now? We weren’t big on them before. I thought we’re just scaring them.”

“We have always been watching them,” Alexander stands up, pacing to where the duo is. He has his hands behind him clasped together. “We were just waiting for the right time. Recently, they’ve interfered with the Swedes underground. They were providing us with research about this super serum, although they became too caught up with their own matters. Captain America and Thor managed to destroy their labs.”

Alexander stops in front of Nico, giving him a side-eye, before moving again. “They’ve saved enough for the three of you to receive. We can duplicate more, but it will take time.”

“So we’re going in for the bigger kill? Captain America himself?” asks Nico.

“Captain America, Iron Man… Black Widow. All of them. One by one.” 

“Then why isn’t Barnes included here if he’s getting the serum too?” Leo questions.

“He’s too headstrong. He’ll probably argue with me like how he did over the kid earlier. I don’t want any of that again.” Alexander sighs and proceeds back to his chair. “But he’s getting the serum nonetheless.”

“Just dispose of him. Leo and I can handle it _better._ ” Nico suggests smugly. “We don’t need him. Bastard couldn’t even kill Hawkeye.”

“The ‘bastard’ you’re talking about has more body count than the both of you combined. Remember that he trained you _and_ Leonid, Wolf Spider. He is efficient in his work. _I_ need him in order to initiate this plan whether he likes it or not.”

Bucky sits at the edge of an unfinished floor of the bank, letting his legs swing. He overlooks the city while clinking his half-full can of energy drink he got from the vending machine onto the metal barriers. 

He keeps thinking about RJ. He worries about the child, because Pierce will never care, but he _does._ Bucky shouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for Pierce constantly manipulating and blackmailing him, threatening not only his sister’s family but his step-father’s too, and they’ve done nothing wrong. It was Bucky who got himself into this shit for blindly accepting Pierce’s offer. It was Bucky who wasn't brave enough to take a risk and get out of this organization when he knew killing people was wrong. Bucky doesn’t want that future for RJ, or any of the new recruits who probably only got coerced into this, just like him.

He thinks about the nurse who had told him he was his cat’s hero, and Clint who told him he’s a hero in his own way. He thinks about Rebecca and her kids who love him like he means the world to them.

They make him _want_ to be a better person. 

Bucky exhales deeply. He shuts his eyes for a minute before looking far away to the tall building with bright lights at the top floor. 

Taking his phone, he dials Leonid’s number. It rings for a while, then it gets picked up.

 _“Что?”_ Leo answers gravelly.

Bucky nibbles on his upper lip. “...Y тебя есть ещё один костюм?”

Clint and Kate arrive at the Stark Tower, overwhelmed by the amount of guests and invitees in the building. One could think this event is Met Gala level with all the influential people from around the globe attending.

Kate is wearing a periwinkle dress that drapes over her with a slit on the left side. Her waist is banded with a lavender Jacquard corset, hands gloved with lace, her hair in a complicated fishtail updo. 

Clint sports a tuxedo from a Van Dyne Spring/Summer collection — a fitting lilac blazer with pattern embroidered on the satin lapels, matching the top with his trousers. He wears a golden collar bar in the shape of an arrow, chains dangling beneath. He combed his hair back for once.

They both look regal, very much like what their colors stand for.

The music is loud, echoing through the crowded halls. Chattering and laughing can be heard on every corner. Clint offers his arm to Kate so they wouldn’t get lost in this sea of people. 

“I’ve never been to a Stark party before,” Kate claims, admiring the interior and the scale of the building. She swears she just saw Margot Robbie grabbing a drink from across. “Please don’t tell me you usually go.”

Clint turns to Kate with a sly smile. “I’d have to keep my mouth shut then.”

“ _Ugh,_ this is so unfair, Clint. What kind of _partnership_ do you have with Tony Stark? And where did you even get your Van Dyne tux? You’re basically wearing six thousand dollars on you right now!”

“Off-brand Legolas!” Tony calls from behind with an animated wave. He’s wearing a matching crimson suit with gold buttons and lapel brooch. He jogs towards the duo and pulls Clint into an embrace. “Thought you’re not gonna make it. How’re you? Who’s this very lovely lady?”

Clint pats Tony’s back as he detaches himself, motioning a hand to Kate. “Ah, this is Kate. She’s a friend. Kate, Tony, Tony, Kate.”

“Hi.” Kate says promptly, shaking Tony’s hand with a bright grin. “Nice to meet you. Great party, by the way.”

“Why, thank you.” Tony replies, mirroring the woman’s smile. “Enjoy yourself, okay?” 

Tony then turns to Clint, patting him on the cheek gently. “I’ll see you around, birdie. Thanks for coming.”

As Tony departs from them to greet James Rhodes and hundreds of other guests, Clint and Kate decide to walk around. A waiter passes by with a tray of champagne, offering them both. They take one for themselves.

All of a sudden, Kate’s jaw _drops._

“What?” Clint asks, nudging Kate using his elbow. “What is it?”

“Oh. My. God.” Kate whispers-yells, turning to Clint. She seems to have an extra blush-on. “It’s Miss America! Clint, pinch me.”

Clint pinches Kate on the arm. She yelps an ow, and when she looks back to America Chavez who’s wearing a navy blue suit and a goddamn _cape_ bedazzled with glitters and stars flowing to the floor, she almost faints. 

The actress crosses the red carpet, cameras flashing left and right. She waves at the people greeting him, then happens to look at Kate with a smile before blending into the crowd.

“Oh god, she’s real.” Kate waves at America a little too late, lovestruck. As obvious as it is, Kate has the biggest crush on America Chavez. She has America’s TIME Magazine: The 100 Most Influential People cover issue _framed_ in her room. “Miss America just smiled at me.”

Clint chuckles. He tiptoes to get a better look at where America is. He finds her looking around with no company. 

“She’s alone right there, what’re you waiting for?” Clint raises his brows. “Talk to her.”

“You’re kidding me. There’s no way–” Before Kate could finish her sentence, Clint is already dragging her to where America is. Kate suddenly feels hot in the face, fanning herself in nervousness. 

“America?” Clint starts, making America turn around. Her face lights up at the sight of someone she knows. “Hi.”

“Mister Clint,” America greets. It was an inside joke between them — she was Miss America, he was Mister Clint, and so forth. “Good to see you here.”

Kate speaks quietly with gritted teeth, “You _never_ said you knew each other.”

“You never _asked_. Now let me handle this.” Clint responds, then grins at America, introducing Kate. “Oh! My friend here, Kate.”

Kate extends a hand, thankful that she has gloves on otherwise America might feel how cold her palm is. “Hi. Hello. I’m a big fan. I’ve seen _all_ your movies.” 

America shakes Kate’s hand. “Aw, thank you so much! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kate. I’m America. I, well, I guess you knew that already.”

Both of the women laughed as Clint felt Kate’s nervousness dissipate. He steps backwards while the girls engage into a conversation, allowing them to get to know each other. He believes he’s a pretty damn good cupid too.

Now, he’s alone. 

He’s used to it, anyway. 

Clint utters a string of excuses as he wades across the crowd, careful with his very expensive clothes. He lifts his champagne up to secure it. Eventually, he makes it to the bar, situating himself on one of the stools.

“Tony said you weren’t going to stop by,” Steve says from Clint’s right, smiling. Clint didn’t even notice him at first. “Hey, Clint.”

Clint turns to Steve, exhaling a sigh, smiling as well. Steve adjusts his sky blue tuxedo, unfastening the satin buttons so he could sit down. He’s also wearing a lapel brooch, the same quality as Tony’s, but in platinum. It has a little wing at the end of the chain. 

“Steve. You with Thor again?” Clint asks, making Steve shake his head with a laugh.

“No, not this time. He’s back in Asgard, actually, doing… Asgardian things.”

Clint gently blows a raspberry with his mouth. He wants to put everything behind, for the sake of having a peace of mind too. 

“I’m sorry I was childish.” Clint says, swirling his drink before taking a sip. 

The bartender gives Steve a glass of liquor as well. Steve sharply breathes in. “It’s okay. What you felt was valid. I didn’t relay the message well either. Should’ve told you what the plan was instead of saying that you weren’t the one I needed.” 

Clint looks back to Steve, gripping his shoulder with a light shake. Then, they both sip at the same time, looking ahead.

“Looks like my date’s back.” Steve speaks up, gesturing his occupied hand to a woman coming. She wears a white chiffon maxi dress, the fabric twisting by her sternum. She basically looks like a Greek goddess with flowing hair and golden jewelry adorning her neck and wrists. 

“Hey, sorry I took so long. I caught up with Natasha back there.” The blonde woman apologizes, gracefully lifting a hand up to Clint. “Hi!”

“Sharon, this is Clint, a friend from work. Clint, Sharon. My fiancée.” Steve introduces. 

Clint gasps dramatically, standing up from his seat. “You’re _engaged_? What the fuck. Sorry–” He puts a hand on his mouth, turning towards Sharon. “He never told me. Congrats! Congrats, you guys.”

“Thank you,” Sharon smiles, reaching for Steve’s free hand. “It’s okay. We just got engaged two days ago, we haven’t really told everyone.” 

For the record, Steve didn’t tell him he had a girlfriend in general.

“Oh man. You’re perfect for each other. I’m _genuinely_ happy.” Clint grins. 

Steve and Sharon look at each other with a smile, the tenderness in their eyes evident. Clint doesn’t want to say that he’s jealous, but he has to admit he misses that kind of love. 

Sharon abruptly gasps, holding Clint’s arm softly. “Sorry, I _just_ remembered I told Bruce I’ll come back to him. He says he’s got someone to introduce, Gee I think?”

“Ah, right. He met them at Oxford University with Tony, right? They’ve been peers since then. Clint, remember them?”

“Yeah, I remember Gee. Met them once. That’s fun! You guys go ahead.” Clint nods his head once.

“You’re not coming?” Steve sighs. “C’mon, Clint. Go have some fun.” 

“I _am_ having fun, sheesh.” Clint laughs, “I’ll catch up with you later. Who knows, maybe I’ll meet my soulmate here at the bar.”

“Let’s hope so.” Steve replies, hoisting his glass while cracking a smile. “We’ll get going then. See you later.”

Clint bids goodbye to the couple with a salute, sitting back to the bar with a huff. He watches everyone from afar — Kate with America and a bunch of others. Looks like she found herself a new group of friends. Tony’s at the second level, an arm around Rhodey’s waist while they talk to Fury and Maria from SHIELD. It reminds him to check on the Russian assassin case, but not tonight. He sees Steve and Sharon meet up with Bruce and Gee who were with Richard and Sue.

Taking a swig of his champagne, he crinkles his nose despite the sweetness. Something else is bitter inside him, he thinks.

Then, someone steals his attention. 

Bucky’s in a very plain suit, probably the simplest among everyone in this venue. He’s wearing a yellow tie that contrasts his pitch black blazer and pants. His hair, which is usually messy in a bun, is braided into a lacy loose inverted updo pinned with a sunflower in the middle. He looks lost in the center of the crowd until he notices Clint at the bar, making him grin ear to ear. Oh, and his usual 5 o’clock shadow is shaved too.

Bucky walks to Clint in a hurry as Clint rises up, planting his glass on the table without taking his eyes off Bucky.

“Hey,” Bucky greets breathily, straightening down his suit. “Sorry, am I late? I took so long doing my hair, think it’s still pretty messy.”

“No,” Clint answers, smitten through and through. “No. You’ve arrived just in time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost 1k hits :)) thank u winterhawk nation <3 this is longer than most chapters n i enjoyed writing it tbh, i hope u enjoyed reading!!
> 
> EDIT:  
> special thanks to [@captainalinchus](https://twitter.com/captainalinchus) for the russian dialogue ("what?" "do you have an extra suit?")
> 
> also i drew the boys! it's on [twt](https://twitter.com/616buck/status/1298366422888849409) as well <3  
> 


	8. Chapter 8

_**A FEW HOURS EARLIER.** _

“I don’t need a new one.” Bucky grumbles, “You could’ve just lent me _any_ suit that you have. I wouldn’t complain.”

“We’re not the same size. They won’t look good on you.” says Leonid, ordering a salesman to come over. 

Bucky and Leonid are in a local suit shop. Bucky had initially asked Leonid for a spare suit, because outside work he’s a huge suits enthusiast, but Leonid brought him here instead. He’s actually wearing one right now, Versace, Bucky guesses. 

“Besides, I’m not paying for these. I’m just helping you out.” 

The salesman comes over with a tape measure and a welcoming grin. “Mr. Novokov! How can I help you and your friend today?”

“ _Friends_ are a bit too much.” Leonid states, “And not me this time. My co-worker here needs a new suit.”

“I can certainly help with that,” The man says, turning to Bucky and extending his tape. “Hi, I’m Henry. I’ll just take your measurements and we can talk about the design you’d like! We have all kinds, single and double-breasted, different kinds’a cuts, we have an array of fabrics–”

As the salesman transforms into a chatterbox while spreading the tape across Bucky’s broad shoulders, Bucky glances over to Leonid who’s watching over them from a wing chair. 

Henry finally finishes, taking his notepad where he had jotted down the numbers. “You see, we work very fast here. I can guarantee a suit in three days–”

“Oh no. I need it today. As soon as possible, actually. Just… Just show me the suits that are closest to my size and I’ll take it from there.” Bucky explains.

Henry pauses, like he was quite disappointed. He shrugs either way. “Alright, this way please.”

There’s a row of blazers hanging above Bucky, all having their own unique characteristics. There are patterned suits, satin, velvet. Colours vary and there’s so much to choose from. Bucky reaches and browses, ultimately settling with a plain black linen one. 

“Are you sure about that, sir?” Henry asks, taking a cashmere midnight blue suit. “How ‘bout this one? It’ll surely look better on you. It contrasts your eyes.”

“I’m fine with this.” Bucky says, gently smoothing the blazer down. “Just find me matching trousers and I’m done. Oh– a yellow necktie would be great too. Thanks.”

Henry is obviously doubting Bucky’s poor fashion choices despite the options, but he resigns. “You know, sir? You’re lucky you’re good looking.”

Bucky blinks and watches Henry walk away to find the clothing pieces.

Leonid and Bucky exit the store, with Bucky sighing at his new clothes _and_ shoes while he was at it. This wasn’t his plan at all, but it’ll work.

“Where exactly are you going?” Leonid asks.

Bucky shrugs. “Do I need to wear it somewhere specifically? Who knows, maybe I just wanted to dress fancy like you for a day.”

“Very funny.” Leonid says, “Hope your date likes that suit.”

“Hope you don’t think of this as a favor.” Bucky turns his head to Leonid who snorts out a half-assed laugh.

“And if I do?” The other man says without returning the look. “You at least owe me a name.”

“Then consider me keeping Manya a secret from everyone in the Department a favor.”

Leonid stops in his tracks and so does Bucky. He never told anyone about his daughter, Manya, who’s kept miles away from him. His daughter who never knew about his father’s job, and yet, his co-worker seems to know about her.

“Barnes–”

“You’re safe. Just overheard a phone call from you, is all. I don’t intend on telling anyone especially Constantine. Everyone’s a fuckin’ tree to bark up on for that dunce.”

Leonid pinches the bridge of his nose, mainly disappointed by his own carelessness. 

“So,” Bucky continues, hanging the bags on one of his motorcycle’s handlebars before hopping on. “If you _do_ consider a name as something I owe you… I don’t think I can give it to you, pal.”

Bucky smiles at Leonid before driving off. 

Leonid doesn’t trust Bucky. Never did. He doesn’t think Bucky trusts him either. It’s all just a game in a world of killers — kill or get killed, and Bucky has _immunity_ for being Alexander’s most valued pawn. Department X isn’t the only organization that hires assassins but Alexander Pierce is a _very_ powerful man in this field of work. That’s why he understands why Nico has been so obsessed in trying to tear Bucky down, besides the daddy issues both he and Bucky have.

For Leonid, however, being the favorite son isn’t the goal.

He just wants his secrets kept like everyone else.

And favors and secrets never worked well for people like them.

Leonid takes his phone out as he watches Bucky disappear into the traffic.

“ _What the hell do you need, Leo? I’m busy–_ ”

“Hello, Nico. I’ve got some fresh scoop for you.”

_**NOW.** _

“Hey,” Bucky greets breathily, straightening down his suit. “Sorry, am I late? I took so long doing my hair, think it’s still pretty messy.”

“No,” Clint answers, smitten through and through. “No. You’ve arrived just in time.”

Bucky’s smile grows wider. “Good.”

Bucky couldn’t help but admire Clint right now. He eyes him from head to toe, thinking about how Clint would complain about their rent price and yet he’s wearing a luxurious suit tonight. Clint looks so different and elegant and _pretty as a picture_ , while here he is with a $300 linen suit. His outfit is so out of place that even the security outside questioned his name being on the guest list (thanks to Kate). He thinks he should have taken the midnight blue suit.

“You’re really beautiful.” Clint thinks out loud, catching Bucky off guard.

“What?” asks Bucky, laughing in embarrassment. “You don’t have to say that. You’re the one who’s stunning tonight. Your suit’s great, really great.”

“No, seriously,” Clint answers, “You’re beautiful. You’re wearing your favorite color for the first time.”

Bucky didn’t think that Clint would remember about the color yellow, or notice that it really is his first time wearing one despite it being his favorite, or get called beautiful _twice_ by Clint. “Oh! Yeah. I asked Mrs. Amrullah if I could take a sunflower from her garden.”

“You plucked our neighbor’s sunflower? You mean _that’s_ real?”

“Hey, I asked permission. And of course it’s real.”

Clint pauses, then laughs out loud. Bucky isn’t sure what’s so funny about that, but he likes Clint’s laugh. He likes making him laugh.

Wiping a stray tear of joy, Clint heaves one last sigh before looking back to Bucky. They lock eyes for a moment, all smiles, until Bucky drifts his attention somewhere behind Clint. His expression changes immediately and Clint catches on that, turning around to see what it was.

“Natalia?” Bucky whispers to himself, wide eyed. 

Clint is as surprised as Bucky, watching Natasha make her way to another room. What shocked him the most is that Bucky _knows_ Natasha’s real name, something that she liked to keep from everyone. He’s pretty sure he’s never introduced nor mentioned each other to one another, and yet Bucky looked at her like he had just seen someone he’s been looking for his entire life.

“I-I’m sorry, I gotta go,” Bucky excuses himself, bolting past Clint and towards the crowd. “I’ll be right back!”

“Bucky, wait! Bucky!” Clint shouts against the music and the talking, accidentally bumping into someone while trying to chase Bucky. He apologizes and backs away, stepping on someone else’s gown this time. Giving up, Clint throws a hand in the air frustratedly, watching the tiny sunflower vanish from afar.

“Natalia!” Bucky calls, slipping past a group and jogging up the stairs. “Nat!”

Natasha holds her black to red ombre velvet gown up as she moves up the steps, frowning at the voice calling her. The music starts to fade at this part of the venue. She turns around, careful, then a figure suddenly embraces her tight.

“You’re alive.” Bucky murmurs against Natasha’s hair, gently running his gloved hand through it. “Thank god.”

“James?” Natasha quirks her brows together, then relaxes them at the realization. She pulls away and stares at Bucky’s face — still the same as when they were younger, with a few wrinkles present here and there. His hair has gotten longer, all tied up nicely. “What are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here?” Bucky queries, holding Natasha by the arm. “I thought you were dead… It’s been so long…”

“No… Yelena and I survived.” Natasha exhales a small laugh, not believing that Bucky is here again. “Thanks to you.”

Bucky could feel tears coming but he holds them back. He grips Natasha one last time before letting go. “I’m glad. I’m glad you’re doing good. But where’s Yels?”

“She was supposed to come with me but she couldn’t leave the shop. She owns a pharmacy now.”

“A pharmacy? Wow, that’s surprising.” Bucky chuckles along with Natasha. He stares at her again, still soaking this all in. “And you? What are you up to?”

Of course, Natasha couldn’t answer that truthfully. She merely smiles at Bucky, peering to the floor as if searching for words. “I’m a dance instructor.”

“So you still dance.” Bucky returns a kinder smile. “That’s fun. Good for you.”

Natasha shrugs. She wishes she’s a dance instructor, but at least she’s still helping people as an Avenger, just in a different and bigger way. 

“How about you, James? Still with Mr. Pierce?” 

Bucky’s lips quiver, refusing to give out answers, although he wants to. It’s the one question Bucky hoped to avoid. 

“You could say that.” He settles, forcing out a smile this time. 

Meanwhile, Clint stands at the bottom of the staircase, hiding on the side. He’s not usually the one to eavesdrop but hearing the name Pierce made it worth it. Who _is_ Pierce, what are his connections to the men with glowing cases, and why do Bucky and Natasha know who he is?

Clint clenches his jaw and walks back to the main hall, trying to piece things together in his mind despite having too little information.

“No, you _don’t_ look alike. At all.” Kate says, pointing her index finger at two men, “Is it the hair?”

“Probably.” The one with platinum hair, Tommy, shrugs. “I tried convincing him to match with me but he didn’t want to.”

“Oh? The last time I remember was _you_ saying you didn’t want to look like me.” The one with the darker hair, Billy, retorts playfully.

The twins banter further, making Kate giggle. She’s having so much fun tonight and she’s honestly glad that she went with—

“Clint!” Kate shouts upon seeing her friend, noting the impassive face. Clint doesn’t look and continues to pass through the crowd. 

“Sorry guys, BRB.” She tells her group of friends and runs after the man.

Clint is mumbling to himself until he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns and sees Kate with a worried expression.

“Hey, you okay?” Kate looks around, “I got a text from Bucky. He’s supposed to be here.”

“Yeah, yeah. He is. I’m just.” Clint sighs, thinking about how Bucky chased for Natasha and how tight their hug was. “I’m just gonna be in the archery room.”

“They have an archery room _here?_ ”

Clint honestly shouldn’t have said that. However, while Tony denies that he had the room installed for Clint, Clint is still positive that it was for him. Who else would it be for?

“It looks like you’ve got new friends. Have fun, I’ll be okay.” Clint reassures, patting Kate on the cheek gently. He heads towards the nearest elevator, his face too unreadable for Kate.

Just as Kate sighs, Bucky appears right behind her, scaring her a bit. She clasps her chest dramatically. “ _Jesus,_ you’re stealthy.”

“I get that a lot.” Bucky says.

“What, Jesus or stealthy?” 

Bucky slightly shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “Have you by any chance seen Clint?”

“Oof, he just left.” Kate answers, pointing at the elevator, “He said he’s going to the archery room. I didn’t even know they had one here!”

“Do you know what floor it is?”

“That, no.” Kate says, twisting the side of her mouth. “Just ask around, maybe?”

Now, that was Bucky’s plan. “Yeah, I guess so. Thanks, Kate.”

Heading towards the elevator, Bucky notices a man in red and decides to approach him.

“Excuse me?” Bucky taps the man’s shoulder twice. The man faces him, eyes widening.

“Woah. Hello.” The man says without breaking eye contact, swiftly slithering a hand on Bucky’s to shake. He grins. “I’m Tony. Stark. You knew that though, right?”

“Yes, uh, Mr. Stark.” Bucky replies, glancing down at their hands. “Can I know the way to where the archery room is?”

Tony immediately removes his hand, blinking. “How’d you know about that?” 

“I’m looking for Clint. His friend said he should be there.”

“Oh.” Tony bobs his head sideways. Clint. “It’s on the 13th floor.”

Bucky finally gives a smile. “Thank you. Nice party, by the way.”

As Bucky enters the elevator, Rhodey, who’s wearing a gray three-piece worsted wool tuxedo, stops beside Tony. “Who’s that?”

“Clint’s date.” Tony sighs defeatedly.

“Oh. He’s cute. I like the sunflower.” 

“Right!?” Tony turns to Rhodey, “You’re cuter though. Oh, let’s go and meet mom upstairs, go go go.” He pushes Rhodey playfully, making Rhodey laugh and lurch forward.

_Deep breath._ Clint focuses on the target 20 yards away, pulling the arrow back steadily. He has his blazer neatly hung on a chair, his sleeves rolled up impetuously. With the room being so quiet, Clint could only hear his heartbeat and the thoughts in his head.

Then, an arrow comes flying past him, hitting bullseye. In surprise, Clint lets go of his arrow and strikes the one in the middle, basically ripping it into half. Clint puts his bow down and turns around.

“That was a nice one.” Bucky says with a smile, his voice reverberating in the room. He doesn’t have his blazer on either. He places the bow he held on a nearby table. 

“You knew archery?” Clint responds, walking towards his housemate. 

“I wouldn’t say I knew.” Bucky meets Clint halfway. He was trained with all sorts of weapon usage, bow and arrow excluded. He can’t exactly say he threw that arrow with his metal arm and only grabbed a bow for alibi, can he? “It was a lucky shot. _You_ knew archery?”

“I _taught_ archery. And trained for the Olympics. Didn’t actually get to compete because… stuff.”

It was because the month before the Summer Olympics, he joined the Avengers.

“Ah, explains it. Thought it was just Kate.”

Clint smiles. “Is being good at archery another thing you’re keeping to yourself?”

“Hey, I said I’m _not_ good at it. And you didn’t exactly tell me about this either.” Bucky clarifies as Clint stares at him, seemingly searching his eyes. Bucky blinks and goes to a nearby table, grabbing the seat that has Clint’s blazer. Clint remains standing. “Why, what else do you want to know from me? The reason why I named my cat Alpine or something?”

Clint finally goes back to his previous spot, drawing three arrows and firing them at once, their positions perfectly vertical on the second target board. “Maybe the reason why you knew who Natasha is?”

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek. “You know each other?”

“She’s my– um, used to be my co-worker.” _Ex-girlfriend._ “A friend. How’d you know each other?”

Small world, Bucky thinks. He hasn’t seen Natasha in _ages_ to the point that he didn’t even know if she was still alive. Now he finds out that she and his housemate who he _definitely_ feels something for, know each other. 

“She was a friend. From way back. I was 21, she was 19. Yelena, our other friend, was a year younger than her.”

Clint shifts his head over his shoulder though not quite looking at Bucky. He gets another arrow, this time aiming at the target hanging from the farthest left of the room.

“I saved her.”

Clint falters, slightly lowering his bow. He veers to Bucky at last to show that he’s listening.

Bucky opens his mouth as he looks up to Clint from where he’s sitting at, absent-mindedly fidgeting with his hands in between his parted legs. He exhales aloud, meticulously planning out how to tell the story without saying too much.

“She was new in the company I worked for, coming from Russia. She didn’t know any English but her friend Yelena did.” Bucky starts. “They weren’t supposed to be there.”

“Her dad died and her relatives sent her there.” Clint cuts in, almost whispering. “She told me about this one. I didn’t know it was _you_.”

Bucky nods his head. “What else did she tell you?” 

“Uh,” Clint bites his bottom lip as he thinks. “She said someone saved her and Yelena. That they were in a bad place and you helped them escape.”

Snorting out a chuckle, Bucky agrees. “Sounds about right.”

“But what exactly is the ‘bad place’?”

“If she didn’t tell you, then maybe I shouldn’t.”

Clint rubs his nape. “Is… Mr. Pierce involved in that?”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “How did you…”

 _Fuck._ Clint sighs, settling down on a chair beside Bucky. He looks to the targets lined up. “Sorry. I happened to hear your conversation by the stairs. She mentioned it, and you said you’re still working for him.”

“Ah…” Bucky’s extra cautious now. He didn’t know Clint would overhear them. “Yeah. Been working for him ever since.”

“Listen, Buck. I’m gonna need more info than that.” Taking a deep breath, Clint pulls his chair closer to Bucky. “I saw something when I was at the bank. Men with… suitcases. _Glowing_ suitcases. I’m pretty sure they weren’t selling LED stuff to a bank. One of them mentions that Mr. Pierce guy.”

Bucky furrows his brows, leaning back. “What?”

Clint has _definitely_ seen something from the Department and that’s _not_ good. If anyone from his work finds out, Clint will be a dead man by the next day and that’s the last thing Bucky wants. On top of that, the case issue is new to him. No one had mentioned about light-up cases or whatever’s inside. Bucky wonders how long have they been keeping this from him.

“Yeah.” Clint says, voice low. “Something’s going on in that _bank_ , Bucky. Something fishy. You have to get outta there. Please.”

“I will.” Bucky takes a pause, “But not now. I… I gotta take care of something.” 

RJ, the other recruits. Bucky _has_ to get them out, then he has to get his sister and her family away. Somewhere _safer._ They have relatives in Canada and he was already planning on contacting them.He doesn’t know how yet, but he’ll try to get Clint to move for his own safety. He can do all of this after he gets the hell out of that shit hole of an organization he never even wanted to be a part of in the first place. He managed to get Natasha and Yelena out of Pierce’s hands _before_ they could enter Department X. He can get himself out, too.

“Bucky, something’s dangerous is brewing inside your job. Maybe— maybe we should call one of the _Avengers–_ ”

“Clint.”

“I thought I was going to _die_ of stress when you didn’t come home for days because of your stupid work–”

“Listen–” 

“And I don’t even know a smitch of _who_ you are.” 

Bucky gulps and closes his eyes. That’s true, and that has been his intention from start to finish — stay obscure and unknown just like how he was to his previous housemates. But this is _Clint,_ and Clint is different. Clint, who would cook him breakfast without asking. Who would send him links on how to take care of cats, who would teach him how to deal with Alpine’s condition. He who never failed to check up on him and see if he’s okay. Clint had cared for him like no other stranger had, and Bucky _knows_ he’s hard to be taken care of.

Bucky prays to whatever holy being there is that he’s not screwing this shit up because lately, he has been doing so. 

He starts.

“My… full name is James Buchanan Barnes. I was named after my great-grandfather… I was born on March 10, 1990 in Shelbyville, Indiana. I’m the eldest of two children. My mom passed away when my sister was born. My dad passed away when I was 17.” 

Clint finallycalms down, looking at Bucky with both confusion and intrigue in his expression. Bucky, his housemate who doesn’t even like talking about what he ate for breakfast, is telling him about his life right now.

“I like reading. Liked, because I don’t read as much as I did when I was a kid. I liked reading comics, those gods and soldiers and warriors. I like blueberry jam in my sandwich. I used to be afraid of heights. I like cats, but my dad was allergic so I couldn’t get one. My dream destination is the Grand Canyon because I saw it on National Geographic once and thought it’s real pretty. I got kicked out of high school for punching a bully–”

“…Why are you telling me all this now?” 

“Because trusting someone again is the last thing I wanted to do,” Bucky confesses, reaching over to hold Clint on his forearm, “Because I want you to trust me just like how much I trust you.”

Bucky’s voice didn’t waver at all as he poured his heart out, and Clint could say that Bucky is as honest as he can get, the closest being the time he told him he wanted to be a hero. Now, Clint feels bad for hiding his identity to Bucky. For not telling him that he’s Hawkeye. 

But he _can’t_. Not while someone is after him and the Avengers. Not while Bucky could be taken away from him.

And so, Clint leans towards Bucky, pulling their faces close and letting their foreheads touch. He shuts his eyes and so does Bucky, feeling each other’s breathing.

“I trust you.” Clint pledges, ingenuous. “ _With my life_.”

Meanwhile, Nico Constantine stands outside the archery room, side-glancing to the door that’s partly open. He huffs a small, contemptuous laugh and walks away, putting his sunglasses on. He slides a hand down his suit to straighten it like a business man that had just landed a deal, his devilish grin growing as he goes.


	9. Chapter 9

There is a creak as Bucky pulls a shaft down, revealing numerous guns of different types fastened on a slab. He pushes a button from the bottom left and watches the weapons get unlocked, wearily leaning on the wall. 

Clint and Bucky didn’t stay long in the archery room last night. They went down to meet Clint’s friends and Clint had never been so confident in introducing a new person after so long. Bucky is knowingly not good with people, and Clint made sure he was as comfortable as he can be throughout the party. All of Clint’s friends were welcoming which was something Bucky was thankful for. He ended up enjoying the rest of the event, drinking alcohol slightly above his personal gauge to be able to function right next morning. Kate ended up driving Clint’s car and took them home. Bucky had to get a cab to Stark Unlimited earlier this morning to grab his motorcycle back.

Now he’s _hungover_ and _miserable_ while teaching a 16-year-old _._

“I wouldn’t call these options because you’re going to use ‘em all eventually. They’re meticulously modified to suit our job, most even have silencers built in.” Bucky lectures, pointing at some of the weapons. “Some are redesigned to have smoothbore barrels and fit slugs in them. They’re my usual go-to because they confuse the shit out of the cops. It’s _extremely_ hard to use in terms of distance, but you’ll get used to it. I’ll train you with the easy ones first.”

“Are you even okay.” RJ folds his arms together, raising a brow at his mentor. “You look sick as hell, but not in a good way.”

“I’m okay.” Bucky says despite the splitting headache occasionally crawling up his skull, “Just listen to me and this’ll be over before you know it. Now, where was I… right, so you ever used guns before?”

“Uhh, no–”

“Knives? Plastic explosives?”

“Nope.”

“Got some moves? Know how to punch?”

“Yeah,” RJ hisses, remembering petty fights in school, “Yeah, I guess.”

Bucky nods and hums, massaging his temples with more pressure. Worst kind of hangover and Bucky doesn’t even know what kind of liquor it was they were drinking. It was strong as fuck yet the Steve guy didn’t even flinch. Bucky was too polite to decline Clint’s friends.

“Good enough. I’ll teach you the rest and I’ll get you the hell out of here–”

“Wait, wait. You’re still onto _that_?”

“Do you like killing?” asks Bucky, now anchoring a metal arm on the weapon slab. He intensely stares RJ down, with the boy straightening his back, chills running down his spine. There’s something terrifying about the Winter Soldier’s look.

RJ’s fists situated on both his sides tremble. He croaks out, “Do you?”

Bucky heaves out an exasperated sigh. This kid definitely adds up to his pain but he has to be patient. Stubborn and hard-headed, just like how he was. He’s basically getting the taste of his own medicine with RJ so he has no right to complain. 

“This won’t work. I’m getting Advil and I’ll get back to you. Stay. Here.” Bucky points his index on the floor, gesturing at RJ. He paces to his left and groans, realizing the door is on his right. 

Department X isn’t your typical workplace. Sure, it’s below an actual operational bank, but it doesn’t exactly have employee lounges or break rooms with coffee machines and first aid kits. You’re usually on your own, except if you’re in a life-threatening situation — like severe hypothermia.

Along the corridor that’s one busted steam pipe away from a typical movie secret villain hideout, they actually have a locker room where assassins like Bucky can keep spare equipment. Bucky walks there, ignoring the throbbing sensation in his head. 

Bucky keeps painkillers in his locker just in case. He has an extra shirt and some pants, some ammunition, his own bandages. There’s a broken mirror inside, as well as a few candy bars, and thankfully a half-empty bottle of water. 

Bucky takes two pills because one doesn’t work for him anymore. He chugs the water and finishes it, throwing it back in his locker because they don’t have recycling bins either. It’s funny how the bank is the façade and yet it gets the better interior and commodities. 

The locker door slams with a squeak, with Nico leaning on his own a few doors away. Bucky hasn’t looked but he knows Nico’s making _that_ face, making him roll his eyes and simply walk away. 

“I’ve no time to play with you, Constantine.”

“How was the party, fancy boy? Didn’t know you were friends with Stark.”

Bucky takes one last step before halting. He didn’t tell anyone, and he made sure he wasn’t followed either. Regardless, he has to consider that there are ears and eyes everywhere. 

“It’s none of your business.” Bucky responds coldly, making his way out of the room. 

Nico pulls his bottom lip out, shrugging as the door automatically slid close. Bucky had always ignored him, refusing to take him seriously, even when he was being trained. 

There is a quiet ding from the back pocket of Nico’s cargo pants. He draws the phone out, snickering at the message received. 

_Clinton Francis Barton. June 18, 1991. Waverly, Iowa. Former Team USA, 2014 Olympics…_ etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

“The bullets don’t trace back to _anything,_ Clint.” Maria explains for about the eighth time in the span of 12 minutes, trying to convince Clint that they’ve got zero leads.

Clint responds with a very frustrated groan. He motions his hands in the air. “What about the goggles? You can’t trace that thing back to its owner or manufacturer?”

“Stark has broken it down to its smallest pieces. They’re nothing like what we’ve seen before, like they were made specifically for the person, if that makes sense. We’ve found a tracking device embedded in the goggles but… it was disconnected and was basically fried when you hit it. No data, no nothing.” 

Clint doesn’t like that. Clint doesn’t like that not even Tony can figure it out. He frowns behind his mask, the gears in his head turning. 

“Look. There haven't been any killings for a while, not that we’ve heard of. I’ve ordered my agents to be extra vigilant if they see anything, then maybe we can gather more–”

“Just because it isn’t happening in America doesn’t mean they’re not doing it in another country. People have _died_ , Maria. Dead. And they’re trying to kill _me._ I can’t sit around and wait for something to happen to take action.” Clint retorts. “Fuck the goggles and the bullets. I’ll get into this myself. I’m not gonna let someone die in their hands again.” 

As Clint marches out of Maria Hill’s office, he gets greeted by no other than Natasha herself. 

“Pretty hot-headed today, Hawkeye?” 

Clint snorts out, irked, entering the elevator with Natasha by his side. “They still got nothing for me.”

“You know, we’ve battled monsters and superpowered people but they _always_ reveal themselves. Spies and assassins like these are highly trained to be inconspicuous. I’m almost impressed.”

“I feel bad mostly for Kate. I’ve had the killer on the ropes and yet… I let go.”

“Maybe the rope just wasn’t tight enough around him in the first place.” says Natasha, adjusting her mask as well. 

Clint pauses for a minute, remembering Natasha’s knowledge about Pierce. He hasn’t really asked her about it, but he’s been rehearsing what to say since this morning despite the migraine. High pain tolerance could be one of his special skills. 

“Hey, do you,” He stammers with his words, “Do you know someone named Pierce?”

Natasha doesn’t look back. She stares at the glass window in front of them, overlooking the city. “Why?”

“I encountered some bad guys a few days ago. In a bank. I didn’t confront them but I heard them mention him. Bucky works for him apparently, and I’m sure he didn’t know of whatever his boss is plotting from behind the curtains.”

At the mention of Bucky — _James_ — Natasha finally turns. She furrows her brows. The bad place she was talking about was something she never figured out even after all these years. All she and Yelena knew was that they weren’t supposed to be there and meet Pierce for a job offer. James told them to trust him and he’ll help them get away, get a better life in America, and he did. With whatever string he could pull, James got them to the other side of the country and entrusted them to someone he knew, a friend who happened to own a dance studio. He told Natasha that it’ll be better for them if they don’t get involved with Pierce at all, and that he knows, because he works for him. She thought Pierce was just a horrible boss, maybe running a shitty workplace, providing crappy workers insurance.

It _just_ sinks in to her what it might mean.

“But… what if he does?” Natasha says softly, questioning.

Later that night, Black Widow and Hawkeye stand on a rooftop near their target bank, but not too close. Clint holds a binoculars to his eyes and observes the night shift pull the metal shutter gate down. The lights on the second floor turn off as well. 

“See anything?” Natasha queries, hands on her hips. She watches a few employees wave at each other goodbye, separating ways. 

“Darkness. How do you turn the night vision on again?” 

“Let me see,” Natasha offers a palm, with Clint giving it to her right away. She clicks a small button on the side and adjusts the distance. 

There’s still a few people inside but they seem to be packing up. She couldn’t see through the walls, realizing that she should’ve taken the binoculars with x-ray instead. Peeping through the windows has to suffice for now.

“Nothing suspicious. Are you _sure_ about what you saw, Clint?”

“Yes ma’am. C’mon, we’re going in.”

The couple sneaks into the bank, using their grappling hooks to steady themselves on the wall as Clint pries one window open. He then hops inside, his foot not making a single sound touching the wooden floor. Not that it would make a difference, the place is empty anyway. 

Natasha follows suit, closing the window after her. She taps her ear piece and a holographic screen pops up to her left eye, scanning the room for any hidden laser alarm. Clint thinks about that one anime character who has that gadget which is a very untimely thought. He forgot his name but he remembers his hair was spiky. 

“No alarms. This seems like an ordinary office.” confirms Natasha, ultimately pacing around the room. She places a disc on the wall which effectively disables any security cameras mounted on it, thanks to Stark tech. All she could see are computer desks, copiers, printers. Nothing suspicious so far.

Clint hums and explores the other side of the room, checking folders and charts that were left on the tables. They’re mostly graphs and paperwork about finances that Clint certainly doesn’t understand. There’s no information about glowing cases or German men in suits, not that he could find — and it annoys the hell out of Clint.

It also annoys him that Bucky wouldn’t leave his mind after hearing what Natasha had said earlier. What if he _does?_ It can’t be. Bucky doesn’t look like it, he proved that his intentions aren’t ill. If he were supposed to put Clint down ever since he moved in that night, wouldn’t he have done it as soon as he could because Clint was vulnerable in his own house? Besides, he saw Bucky’s room. There wasn’t any body bag or whatever, pretty messy but that was _it_. 

He can’t. He refuses to believe that Bucky is part of whatever scheme Pierce is into. 

Clint opens the door and peers out of the hallway, empty and dark as expected. He could see a line of other doors though. 

“We should split up. Man, telling you that doesn’t really get any easier.” Clint jests, making Natasha huff a small laugh. 

It wasn’t easy for Natasha either when she was the one who had to drop those words a few years back. She’s grateful it worked out the way she hoped it would, with them still being friends, their bond stronger than before. She wouldn’t think twice risking her life for this man, but she won’t tell him that either because he’ll get mushy. 

“Alright, lover boy. I’ll take the right, you take the left.” Natasha concludes and smiles at Clint before disappearing into another room. 

Clint checks each and every one of the rooms he’s assigned to, scouring through drawers. He found interesting stuff, like accounts of some overseas millionaires he never even heard of. He looked through the cork boards and flipped through thick stacks of papers, only to find something relevant on a single piece of sticky note on someone’s desk. 

_Mr. Pierce tmrw @ 7pm_ , it says. Clint plucks it from the desk, flipping it over to see if it says anything behind. It’s blank. At least he knows something is going on tomorrow. He could check it and–

Suddenly, a crashing sound from outside alerts Clint, racing out of the room and to where it might be. He sprints room to room, haste, knowing it must be Natasha. _Fuck,_ they got Natasha.

After four doors, Clint sees a messed up Narra desk with supplies scattered on the floor and Natasha situated on top of it, still conscious but evidently affected by the tranquilizer on her neck. Clint reaches for her as she weakly lifts a hand up, pointing behind Clint.

Clint turns _fast_ and blocks a punch, kicking the enemy on the knee. The man stumbles backwards, but manages to compose himself again, withdrawing a knife from his thigh holster.

_The assassin._

He attacks Clint with a rush, giving Clint a jab on the jaw before attempting to stab him again like the last time. Clint growls against gritted teeth as he blocks the knifed hand, pushing the enemy back again before attacking with a roundhouse kick. 

The assassin flunks down with a thud, sliding himself quick to trip Clint with his foot. Clint unfortunately slips, immediately taking an arrow and shooting the assassin, hitting his stomach.

Clint notices the fact that his metal arm isn’t showing this time. As the assassin groans in pain, Clint bolts to Natasha who’s nearly fainted now. 

“Widow, stay with me! Widow!” He yells, gently patting his partner’s cheek. _No, no, no._

Then, Clint feels a sharp object impale him on the side.

His knees are getting weak, making him slump to the ground, desperately trying to grab onto the table. His body isn’t functioning well, with his hand involuntarily dropping the bow. He leans himself on the table, hand on his side where the knife is buried in, feeling the wetness. He pulls it out and looks at it despite his vision blurring and swirling as he notices the pinkish liquid mixed with his blood. 

He’s been poisoned. Explains why a single stab destabilized him within _seconds._

The assassin looms over Clint, tilting his head in mockery as he watches Clint slowly lose consciousness, taking the arrow buried in his stomach out. The goggles and the mask are all the same, and so are the moves and skills. Clint is sure the hair is kind of different though, like if you observe closely, you’d see _red._

Maybe he’s hallucinating.

Clint closes his eyes.

Bucky stops by the alley he and Hawkeye had last fought. He hasn’t seen the masked Avenger in a while. 

Like his usual routine, Bucky changes from his uniform into his casual wear before heading back home. He checks his phone to see if Clint had sent anything, if he had asked to buy the chips he liked that’s only sold in one specific 7-11. Nothing.

Somehow, it really bums Bucky out when Clint isn’t texting him. Then he remembers the time Clint had pulled their foreheads together, the closest they’ve ever been — he shakes his head to make the thought dissipate. 

As Bucky turns his motorcycle’s engine off, his phone pings twice, hurrying to see who it was. 

V. Karpov  
  
Come back to work  
  
ASAP. Important  
  


Bucky clicks his tongue and starts his vehicle again. 

It’s dead of the night and there’s a bright blue light coming from the end of the corridor where Pierce’s office is located. He cautiously approaches it, hearing pained groans from inside. What in the hell are they doing there? Bucky stops in front of the door, holding out a hand to twist the doorknob when Vasily Karpov opens it from the inside. The flashing lights have stopped, too. 

“You made it.” Karpov greets.

“I _had_ to make it.” Bucky responds, nodding his head to go inside. Karpov sets himself aside and allows Bucky to come in.

There’s Leonid standing beside Nico who’s sitting down and holding his head, looking dazed. Pierce, on the other hand, is sitting on his chair as always. There’s a few people in lab gowns standing at the opposite side of the room, all eyes on Bucky. 

“Okay, what’s going on here? Something happened?”

“Something willhappen.” Pierce says. “We caught Hawkeye andBlack Widow thanks to Constantine right here.”

Nico tilts his chin up, looking exhausted but proud. He grins at Bucky, showing him that he can definitely do better than him. 

This explains why Hawkeye wasn’t present anywhere earlier but… even Black Widow? Nico Constantine hit the jackpot. 

“Well? Where are they?”

“Somewhere hidden.”

“Let me get to Hawkeye.” Bucky demands. 

There was a change of heart, kind of, to Bucky. Before, he only wanted to take Hawkeye down for the sake of the mission. He couldn’t give a single fuck about him. But when Clint had said maybe they should ask the Avengers for help, he thought if he encountered Hawkeye again he could try. Maybe superheroes had an oath like doctors to never refuse especially to people in need. Obviously, Hawkeye has already been compromised along with Black Widow. It doesn’t have to stop there though.

“I want to talk to him.”

“You can do that next time. For now, I need you to do something for me — and I’ll make sure you won’t fail this time.” Pierce says, nodding over to the doctors. One of them mirrors the action and goes to Bucky, raising a syringe of fuck knows what. 

Bucky steps back.

“What the hell is that?” He says, swatting the hand of a doctor trying to get ahold of him. A few more people attempt to restrain him, luckily his mechanical arm gives him an advantage. “Hey–” 

Leonid steps in. He goes behind Bucky and grabs his metal arm, and fuck he’s _strong._ He puts it behind Bucky along with his flesh one, the whirring inside Bucky’s arm loudening due to the force. 

Bucky doesn’t understand.

Leonid holds Bucky still as one man gets close to him, injecting the liquid on his neck before Bucky could protest further. Within three seconds, Bucky is already groggy, the entire room spinning before him. Tranquilizer. He goes limp, yet Leonid has no problem holding his weight up. 

When Bucky comes back to his senses, he feels metal straps holding him back. He’s been put vertically in some sort of a tube. Leonid and Nico are in front of him, so is Pierce and a few other people with charts, observing him. He has no idea of what’s going on — there are machineries he doesn’t recognize, but he does know he’s in their laboratory. 

Through the glass, Bucky could see Pierce instructing someone to do something. With a push of a shiny red button, tiny compartments open beside him, revealing syringes filled with blue serum. They puncture him all at the same time and then there’s _burning_ pain, like lava is directly coursing through his veins, which are now glowing azure. Bucky grunts and whines as he strains against the straps. Gasping for air, Bucky feels like he’s overheating, sweating bricks as the serum continues to take over. 

The syringes pull away once they get empty, with Bucky finally feeling the pain in him subdue. The ache turned into _relief,_ like he’s been recharged and had slept for a century. His back doesn’t even hurt anymore. However, he’s _still_ lightheaded, his head and body still adjusting to whatever change had happened.

What did he just _become?_

Pierce smiles, clenching a fist in victory. With two captured Avengers and three super soldiers on his side, at last, everything is going according to plan.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a long one, a lot of action so mind the canon-typical violence tag!!! thank you for your patience :]

Clint stirs from his long sleep, groaning. He tries to move but he’s taped on a chair, and each time he does the pain on his side just fires up. His mouth is also shut by tape. 

He looks to his right and sees Natasha still unconscious. She’s breathing though, which is good. Scanning the room, Clint notes that they must be in some kind of a basement, most likely under the bank. He can hear busy footsteps from above. 

Clint thinks about Bucky. He knows he’s supposed to be here at work today, not directly in the bank but at the construction project above. He wishes he could just call him for help but he can’t. He’ll not only endanger a civilian’s life but also his and Natasha’s identities as the Avengers, considering that they’re aware of his minor connection to Pierce. But he knows — he knows if Bucky had been here, he would help them out no matter what.

Clint makes suppressed noises, trying to scoot towards Natasha. He can’t hear himself. They took his hearing aids.

 _Please wake up,_ he thinks to himself, _please Nat._

She doesn’t. His chair is barely shifting either, and he doesn’t want to move more because his wound isn’t stitched close and he doesn’t want to bleed out more. Clint nasally huffs out loud, yelling although stifled.

The door opens, prompting Clint to jolt in his seat. It’s the same guy — no wait. As a glint of minimal light present in the room hits the man, Clint notices the red in his hair again, like the shade of dried blood, only that it’s probably natural. Had it been like this since their first meeting on the roof… or are there _two_ of them?

Turns out the latter is right.

After the first one, a _second_ man walks right behind, identical to the assassin. They’re like twins, about the same length of hair and build, uniform, but the metal arm is present on the other. The other also has lighter brown hair. A redhead and a brunet.

So there’s one half-cyborg and one human, Clint confirms — unless there’s a hidden metal part for the first assassin too. There must be some sort of a schtick going on, dressing up similarly to confuse and convince people at the same time.

Nico and Bucky stay far from the two hostages, keeping an eye on them quietly. Bucky sighs in his mask, crossing his arms. They don’t look so bad especially Black Widow who only seems passed out. Hawkeye has a cut on his lip and carmine seeping through his purple uniform. 

Now, maybe that’s a little bad.

“You left him there to _bleed?_ ” Bucky turns to Nico, whispering.

“ _And_ poisoned him, but the boss told me to give him the antidote anyway.” Nico answers, making Bucky roll his eyes.

“We need him alive. Hawkeye could’a bled to death, idiot. You thought to tranq Black Widow but stabbed _and_ poisoned the guy?”

“You stabbed him first before, you fucker.” Nico shakes his head, visibly annoyed despite the mask and goggles concealing his face. “Whatever. You’re just mad I got to capture the bird before you. You wanted to teach him a lesson anyway, just go and have your goddamn fun.”

Right. Bucky told Nico to show him where Black Widow and Hawkeye are so he could ‘get revenge’. Play with Hawkeye a little bit. If Bucky’s honest, he isn’t sure if he’s _that_ believable or everyone is just a bonehead.

“Don’t do anything funny.” Nico warns with a pointed index before leaving the premises.

Hawkeye makes another noise, tilting his chin up as Bucky beelines to him, wondering if he should take the tape off or not. He looks at the heroine beside him who’s still unconscious, then back to the man. They’ve only ever fought in the dark, and Bucky hadn’t noticed that the hero has electric blue eyes. There’s an unknown knot forming in Bucky’s stomach all of a sudden. 

He rips the tape off Hawkeye’s mouth. 

“Ouch! Could you be more gentle? Why is _everyone_ so rough on me?”

It was the first time Hawkeye had spoken to him. 

But the voice? The voice isn’t new at all.

Besides the fact that he’s still adjusting to the serum and feeling like he’s got a bleeding edge of a super-soldier body, Bucky knew the pain he’s having in his chest shouldn’t be there. However, it’s there rightfully so and Bucky knows the reason.

It’s Clint goddamn Barton.

With trembling hands, Bucky touches the man on the face, specifically on the covered upper part, running the tip of his fingers down his dirtied mask reverently. How did he not notice? How dumb was he to not know who he was fighting, not know who he was tearing apart? Just because of a goddamn purple mask? And it’s _purple_ , which basically gives it away already. The injuries and wounds Clint brings home probably from fighting crime… only that Clint didn’t reveal his archery skills until last night.

“Um, you’re being weird now.” Clint speaks, slightly tilting his head away from the contact. “If you’re saying anything, I can’t hear you. Your friend took my hearing aids and you’re wearing a mask.”

Bucky withdraws his hand halfheartedly, situating it back to his side. He glances at the table behind the duo where their utility belts and weapons are kept. Clint’s opaque lavender hearing aids are there too. 

He swears that he had practiced what he could say to Hawkeye once he encounters him again. That he’s on the good side, that he didn’t want to be a part of this. That he needed help toppling Pierce down. Bucky’s not good at speeches but persuasion is another thing. Now, assurance is all gone. He doesn’t even know if he should just say fuck all and take his mask off, reveal to the man that he likes that he’s the one who stabbed him _almost_ to the heart. That he killed his innocent friend’s manager. That he’s been lying to him because one of his tasks was to take him and his friends down. That he knew of Pierce’s plans from the start except the knock-off super-soldier transformation. 

He doesn’t even know if he can face Clint again as Bucky Barnes after this because Clint doesn’t deserve the betrayal he had just given him. He couldn’t imagine Clint’s reaction. He doesn’t want to imagine.

The second assassin — Clint decides to call him _Dos_ in his head — walks behind him without words after bizzarely caressing him. What the hell is going on?

Suddenly, he feels a hand on his shoulder. _Oh god, he’s gonna cut my throat,_ Clint thinks, closing his eyes. Is this really the end for him? Tied up on a chair in a dim basement? He hasn’t even confessed his love for his housemate, hasn’t told him his brown eyes looked the prettiest among the blues–

But there wasn’t a knife. There was, however, something being put carefully in his ear. There’s a high pitched sound for a while, with Dos struggling to put the tip in, then it stops. Clint can hear on his right ear now. 

“What are you doing? Are you helping me?” asks Clint, feeling Dos put his left hearing aid in this time. Dos has been quiet though, he couldn’t even hear any Darth Vader breathing from his mask.

Once Clint has both his aids inserted, Dos comes back in front of him, going down on one knee. Clint blinks a couple of times, confused as hell.

“I’ll help you. In return, you help me.” The assassin offers, his voice _real_ low and muffled from the mask. 

Clint scoffs in his seat, whipping his head dramatically. “Hah, and then get betrayed and killed at the end? _Fuck off._ Let us go before the rest of the Avengers kick your asses sore.”

The assassin goes quiet, tilting his head down, as if Clint had hurt his feelings. Clint maintains the frown in his face, but he can’t help but wonder what happened to the fierce metal armed man he met before. He seems… softer. 

“Mr. Pierce wants all of the Avengers dead. He’s not gonna let you guys go. He’ll lure Iron Man and Captain America here then he’ll take them down too. We need to stop him.”

“So I was right. Pierce _is_ doing shady stuff here.” Clint exhales, shifting a bit in his seat. “What makes you think you can defeat Iron Man and Cap?”

“Because Pierce has a lot of minions,” Dos explains, clenching his metal hand. “And three super-soldiers the same as Captain America.”

“Super-soldiers?” Now, that’s new. Steve was the last and only receiver of the serum after Erskine got shot 10 years ago. “ _How?_ ” 

Natasha opens her eyes and groans before realizing she’s tied up. Clint immediately turns to her, sighing in relief.

“Widow!” Clint exclaims enthusiastically. Natasha looks at him with weary eyes; the tranquilizer must’ve been so powerful for her to sleep that long.

Natasha makes a sound against the tape on her lips. As if on cue, the assassin stands up and takes it off too. Natasha grunts and moves aggressively in her seat, scowling at Dos. 

“ _You!_ When we get out of here, I–”

“We will,” Clint interjects, hesitance in his eyes as he glances at the man. “He… he said he’s gonna help us.”

“And you believe that?” Natasha shakes her head in dismay. “He’s obviously messing with your head! He poisoned you, I was still awake when he did!”

“It wasn’t me.” Dos says quietly. “It was another guy. Wolf Spider.”

“Wolf Spider?” Natasha repeats.

“And _you_ are?” Clint asks because he’s _really_ planning to call this guy Dos for the rest of it.

The assassin falters. He curls his fists into a ball, then lets them go.

“Winter Soldier.”

“Any news about Clint and Natasha?” Steve paces across the lab in the Avengers Headquarters, a hand on his waist. He swipes a holographic screen off his way, stopping beside Tony who’s busy with the keyboard.

Black Widow and Hawkeye have been missing in action for 14 hours now.

“I don’t know. They didn’t tell us where they went.” With a click of a key, an error screen pops up in front of Tony. “Their GPS is botched. Couldn’t even give us their last location because they didn’t register in the system.”

Steve hums, a hand on his chin as he thinks. He studies the screen before him, looking at photos of different people SHIELD has eyes on recently. One of them is a man named Alexander Pierce. 

“Don’t worry, Cap. They’re more than capable of defending themselves. You know it.” Tony reassures, patting Steve on the shoulder before walking away, his armor whirring in every step. 

Steve remembers Clint, how his eyes ignited with perseverance the last time they talked here in the HQ. Clint is _very_ important to him and that’s why he’s always worried, always wanting to make sure he’s alright. However, he wants to show that he trusts him more than ever. 

Steve just prays that it is the right decision this time.

The rope around Natasha’s hands falls on the floor as she hisses, massaging her ruddy wrists. Bucky feels extra bad, recognizing Natasha’s voice immediately when she spoke earlier. The mask concealed her face and the ponytail didn’t help either. She’s been Black Widow after all, working with Clint who’s apparently Hawkeye. He isn’t sure if her being a dance teacher was ever true, but who is he to judge, really? 

Clint stands up and stretches upon being free before folding himself in pain, completely forgetting about his stab wound. Bucky and Natasha both instinctively run to him, but Bucky allows Natasha to be the one to support Clint and sit him down again. He stands on the sidelines, unable to do anything. He’s not _Bucky_ right now to Clint. 

Natasha pulls Clint’s uniform up, revealing the wound on his side. He has to get stitched. 

“Do you have any medic kit here?” Natasha turns back to Bucky, still unaware of who he is, thankfully. 

Bucky swallows. “We do but not in this room. I’d have to get it somewhere else–”

“I’m okay, it’s just a stab. I’ve been stabbed before.” Clint grunts as he stands up again, glancing at Bucky. 

Bucky feels _awful._

Clint rips a part of his pants, then ties it around his torso to act like an abdominal tourniquet temporarily. Now he has half-pants, half-shorts which oddly fits him. “We gotta get outta here. What’s the plan, big guy? You’re the one who knows the place.”

As Natasha and Clint go to the table and grab their weapons back, Bucky contemplates. He didn’t know he’d get as far as convincing the heroes to trust him but here he is. He hasn’t really thought of a concrete plan yet.

“Kill Pierce.” Bucky then decides, easy as that. “Before he does whatever he plans to do.”

“Winter Soldier, my dude. The Avengers don’t kill.” Clint reminds, slinging his quiver carefully on his back. 

All of a sudden, the door opens as a Department operative catches the newest team-up, drawing his gun upon noting that the captives are free. Unfortunately, Bucky’s _faster,_ his cocked Glock already on his hand as he shoots the man behind him, accurate to the chest without even looking. There’s a thud as the body collapses.

“I do.” He says, his gaze not leaving Clint as he proves his point. 

That somehow leaves Clint’s jaw hanging before he nods and shrugs acceptingly. Meanwhile, Natasha sets her Widow Bite on her wrists, the weapon glowing a dangerous blue. The alarm blares dreadfully loud outside, a signal meaning they’ve been found out. This isn’t good. People will be sent after them.

“So. Where’s your boss?” queries Natasha, pulling two pistols from her holster in preparation. She can already hear distant footsteps coming.

“Follow me.” Bucky runs ahead and skips over the body on the floor. The Avengers tail him and get received by Department X assassins outside. The trio is outnumbered. 

Clint draws four arrows and aims. Natasha points her guns, her Bite ready alongside. Bucky stands in front of them, relaxed, facing the swarm of agents.

“What are you doing, Winter Soldier?” The woman in front asks, pointing her gun at Bucky.

Bucky doesn’t answer. He merely grabs the gun with his flesh hand and _crushes_ it, letting the pieces fall off his grip like metallic sand. The woman is _terrified_ as seen in her face, the rest of the agents visibly hesitating now.

From there, Clint and Natasha realize that Winter Soldier is one of the super-soldiers.

With no time to waste, Hawkeye begins firing his arrows, taking down a bunch of agents at once. Everyone starts clamoring, with Black Widow starting with a butterfly kick towards the agent rushing towards her. Winter Soldier takes person after person, slamming them to the ground with his left arm while shooting his gun using his right. The hallway is becoming a mess, the red light flashing from the alarm adding to the intensity of the situation. 

Clint doesn’t want to admit it, but they make a pretty good team — if he disregards the fact that Winter Soldier literally put a knife to his heart (almost). He picks up a few arrows from unconscious assassins, panting big breaths. He knows they’re not done yet.

Winter Soldier walks over the pile of bodies so nonchalantly Clint wonders how many times had he done this, a cluster of people beneath his feet only that they’re dead and submerged in red. The assassin’s moves were certainly violent; Clint doesn’t want to check if he _did_ kill someone. 

Once the path is clear, Bucky starts running to the hallway where Pierce’s office is at. He passes by a room, its door slightly ajar, the inside dark. Abruptly stopping and causing Clint to bump into his back, Bucky frowns under his goggles and opens the door further. His infrared gadget senses a small figure sitting at the corner. 

“RJ?” Bucky calls out gently as the figure stands up immediately.

“Winter!” RJ exclaims, dashing towards the assassin and embracing him in relief. “You’re here… You’re with – they’re the hostages, the Avengers.” The kid says, making out the silhouettes using the light from the hall. 

“What are you doing here? You should’ve ran away when the alarm went off.” Bucky says.

RJ goes quiet, pulling away. “They took the other recruits. They were going to test them with the new serum. I-It malfunctioned, sir. They didn’t make it. There were two of us left but I got scared. I didn’t want it. I escaped, then the alarm sounded off. I guess they forgot about me.” 

Hawkeye and Black Widow look at each other thinking about the same thing: why in the hell is there a kid here? 

Bucky exhales. 

“I’m sorry. I should’ve listened.” RJ rasps out.

“Hey. It’s alright. We’ll get out. Right?” Bucky turns to Clint who’s currently dumbfounded at how soft this assassin just acted towards a child.

Clint nods to Bucky then to Natasha, crossing his arms. “Yeah. Yeah, we’ll get you out of course.”

Bucky hands over his gun to RJ, the one he’s been using since earlier. “Here. Remember everything I taught you. We have to fight _anyone_ that stands our way so you gotta stay vigilant.”

The team of four now walks out of the room. Across the hall they see Pierce with Leonid and Nico running up the stairs to possibly help their boss hide. His plan is obviously going south, with the Winter Soldier’s betrayal an unprecedented circumstance.

In annoyance, Bucky growls low, sprinting in an incredible speed towards the three. However, a room to his left explodes, having him shield himself with his metal arm as he flies backwards.

“Winter Soldier!” Both Natasha and Clint yell, running towards the assassin. Natasha then stays behind and puts an arm around RJ, with Clint first ahead.

Hawkeye lifts a few rubble off the assassin. Then, two figures appear from the smoke.

One is a woman with a huge gun dressed in a military green suit and a red skull mask. The other is a bulky man with the same weapon, dressed in casual clothing and a white skull mask. Bucky grits his teeth as he recognizes who they are. They’re assassins the same department as him, but in a different ‘branch’ per se.

“Throwing a tantrum, Soldier? Your pops had to call us in the middle of a mission.” The woman, known as _Sin_ in the Department X, leans her huge artillery on her shoulder. 

Bucky stands up indignantly, refusing Clint’s assistance. He _hates_ when people refer to Pierce as his dad. 

“But it’s okay. We got it under control.” The man says — _Crossbones_ , Bucky remembers. “Now it’s your turn, pal.”

“Who in the hell?” Clint manages to speak before it starts raining bullets, with the Winter Soldier swiftly pushing him out of the way. 

Black Widow starts opening fire as well, positioning RJ behind her who points his gun to Sin, missing a few shots. His aim needs to be worked on. 

Clint gets back to his feet and takes an adamantium bola arrow, easily hitting the white skull in between his eyes — although the impact was lessened by the mask itself. 

Crossbones chucks the arrow off and begins targeting Hawkeye with his gun that turns out to be a laser one, explaining the massive barrel. Clint rolls away and hides behind a chunk of concrete, looking over his shoulder as the lasers continue to fire away. 

On the other hand, Bucky hauls himself onto Sin while she shoots at Natasha, Sin’s gun hurtling away. He holds her by the neck with his metal arm, the mechanisms inside whining. Sin lets out choking sounds which catches Crossbones’ attention.

With Crossbones distracted enough, Clint rises from his seat and aims an electro-disruptor arrow at him, hitting the man at the back in a whiz. Crossbones writhes in electrocution, ultimately collapsing after yelling in pain. 

Meanwhile, Sin struggles underneath the Winter Soldier. She claws on his face, taking off the goggles and the mask, which exposes who the assassin really is. 

Bucky’s eyes enlarge in surprise, clutching his jaw as he increases the pressure on Sin. The woman croaks out a breathy laugh, as if mocking the assassin. 

“Hail… _Hydra._ ” She mutters before losing consciousness. Bucky releases her, puzzled as to what she just said.

The surroundings quiet down as the battle subdues, the smoke from the explosion earlier thinning in the air. The coast is clear for now. RJ offers assistance to Natasha who apparently got hit on the shoulder by Sin’s bullet. Clint walks over to a passed out Crossbones, planting a boot on his back as he pulls the arrow out, hearing a little sizzle. Well deserved.

“She dead?” Natasha asks Bucky whose back is turned on them. Bucky simply shakes his head animatedly, stealing Sin’s weapon before standing up.

“Knocked her out for now.”

“Are you okay, Widow?” Clint places his arrow back to his quiver, gently patting Natasha on the back upon noting her injury. They’ve been through _worse,_ but Clint wants to make sure.

“It’s nothing. Laser, so at least there aren’t any bullets lodged.” Natasha confirms, smiling at her teammate. She then turns back to Winter Soldier. “Hey, Soldier. You alright?”

Bucky stares at his mask on the floor. He picks it back up along with his goggles, promptly wearing them again before facing the two heroes. He can’t be found out. Not now, at least. 

“She said something. Hail Hydra.”

“Hydra? Isn’t that–” Clint furrows his brows before being cut off by Natasha.

“The Nazi organization Cap fought in World War 2.” Natasha continues, “We thought SHIELD eradicated that when the war ended?”

As it clicks in her mind, Natasha promptly lifts a gun to Winter Soldier, opting him to point his own weapon back to her. “You _bastard_ , you’ve been Hydra all this time?”

Clint gets more puzzled, going in front of RJ before aiming an arrow to Winter Soldier. Somehow though, it doesn’t feel right. 

“No!” Bucky admits defensively, shifting his target between the two Avengers. He doesn’t want to do this. “Maybe Pierce has been trying to bring it back, but I didn’t know. I swear. This is all _new_ to me. Even RJ doesn’t know, ask the kid.”

“What would the _kid_ know?” Natasha retorts, her aim at Bucky unwavering. “You’ve been playing us from the start.”

“That’s not true. I would’ve killed you in that damn room if I wanted you gone like Pierce. I… needed to get out of here. I needed RJ to get out of here. It just… got complicated when you two got involved. I just want to stop Pierce from doing more harm.” Bucky closes his eyes, slowly kneeling to put his gun down, then raises his hands in submission.

“I never wanted to be who I am.” 

Black Widow gulps and sharply stares at the man across her before finally deciding to lower her weapon. She sighs heavily, quietly groaning at the ache on her wound. Clint feels a weird relief in him, putting his bow down as well. 

“The moment you betray us, I won’t hesitate to take you down. I don’t care if you saved us.” Natasha utters, marching past Winter Soldier with an eye roll. 

Clint follows her, looking down to the assassin with a bit of sympathy in his eyes. It must’ve been hard doing things you never wanted to do in the first place, especially when that thing isn’t just like begrudgingly washing the dishes or anything similar — it’s when something that tests your moral compass, when lives of _people_ are in your hands.

RJ walks over to Bucky in a meek manner as the assassin stands up with his gun.

Bucky sighs. “And you’re getting _out._ There’s an exit to the corridor to your right–”

“What? No! I can fight, I can help–” 

“You’d be much more help if you’re not _here._ ” Bucky insists, stepping forward, unintentionally intimidating. “We’ll meet you when it’s over. Go somewhere safe. No buts.”

RJ looks upwards to the Winter Soldier, his lower lip quivering. He wants to help, he really does. It’s the least he can do after being so stubborn and repeatedly ignoring his warnings. 

Bucky lets himself smile beneath his mask, reaching over to the kid to give him an affectionate pat on the head. Softly, he says, “You did well. Now _go._ ”

With RJ gone, Bucky catches up to the duo who was waiting upstairs in the bank. The place is pretty much empty as everyone had fled earlier when the alarm rang. Their footsteps echo as they walk around, weapons ready for any ambush that might happen.

“Where do you think they are?” asks Clint, voice low. He swiftly moves his bow to his left, knees slightly bent as he paces cautiously. 

“Probably the second floor. I’ll–”

“Down!” Natasha heaves the two men away from the sudden bullets being fired at them, leading them under the nearby desk. 

The glass dividers shatter above them, with the three of them all clumped together in such a small space. Winter Soldier wraps an arm around Black Widow who is basically sandwiched between him and Hawkeye, his hand reaching Hawkeye’s head protectively. 

Clint draws an arrow — his explosive one — and immediately shoots it to where he briefly saw the bullets coming from: the upper level.

The arrow lands between Leonid and Nico with three faint beeps and red light blinking, then it detonates. The two assassins jump away which gives the trio enough time to strike back. Bucky runs and gets enough momentum and _leaps,_ reaching the second level quickly. The cement barrier cracks under Bucky’s strong grip, hauling himself upwards thereafter in one single pull. 

Clint remains standing there. “Wow. And I thought Cap was already cool–”

“Hawkeye!” Natasha yells as she bolts to the stairs. Leonid appears and shoots at Natasha who skillfully dodges, tackling the super-soldier immediately with all her strength. 

Clint runs after her, then notices Wolf Spider open and stunned at the back. He goes after him instead, trusting on the Black Widow’s latrotoxins. 

He strikes a freeze arrow to Wolf Spider from afar, knowing how well it worked on the Winter Soldier before — unfortunately, he forgot to think about the upgrade this guy had. 

It doesn’t work as thoroughly as Clint hoped it to be. Wolf Spider merely takes it off and turns to him, his stance seemingly _angry._ Uh oh.

Before Wolf Spider could attack though, Winter Soldier grabs him by the hair and pulls him, punching him right on the nose. 

“Help Widow!” Bucky shouts at Clint, looking over to a stupefied Constantine with a broken nose, “I’ll take this son of a bitch.”

Clint nods and runs over to Natasha who’s now fighting hand-to-hand with Leonid. Before Leonid could land his kick on her, an arrow hits his back, acid exploding on him and through his uniform. Leonid screeches in pain; even though he’s a super-soldier now doesn’t mean his skin got thicker. The acid _burns_. 

It doesn’t stop the assassin though. Now, he has two Avengers against him. 

“Are you glad we’ve been training with Cap lately?” Black Widow grins, her fists positioned defensively. 

Hawkeye snorts. “Yeah, right. But I’m pretty sure this guy’s nothin’ on him.”

Then, side by side, Hawkeye and Black Widow run towards Leonid, just like old times.

Meanwhile, Bucky throws another punch on Nico’s jaw, sending the man backwards. Nico staggers but grapples Bucky forward and pushes him on the ground. He sits on top of him, returning the punches.

One punch breaks Bucky’s goggles immediately. Bucky puts his metal hand on Nico’s throat in retaliation, but Nico doesn’t stop striking, with their stamina and endurance basically the same.

However, Bucky’s feeling weaker first, considering that he’s been fighting agents since earlier. His grip on Nico loosens, making the other man grin under his mask. 

“I’ve always known you’re gonna betray us eventually.” Nico is seething, smacking Bucky on his left cheek, his mask gaining a small fissure. “They just wouldn’t listen to me!”

With every word, Nico hits Bucky in emphasis. Seeing Winter Soldier under him, beaten, frail — he’s more than amused. He’s been waiting for this for a long time and this serum honestly made it rather enjoyable. His strength must have _tripled_.

Bucky’s sure that if he gets hit one more time, he’ll black out. He looks at Nico with half-lidded eyes, groaning. 

Nico harrumphs and lifts his fist to the air for the final blow.

Before Nico could celebrate, Hawkeye plants a sonic arrow behind him from afar, an ear-splitting shriek howling from the tip for three seconds. Nico covers his ears in pain, a window enough for Bucky to take revenge and punch him on the face as hard as he can, efficiently knocking him out instantaneously. With Nico falling off him, Bucky sits up, feeling a bit disoriented because of the sonic weapon. Clint runs towards him, thankfully unaffected due to his distance. Natasha jogs behind.

There’s a bit of blood trailing down Bucky’s eyebrow, his goggles officially broken again. The three look then turn to the first floor where a bunch of assassins appear, their various types of weapons pointed at them. Clint’s pretty sure one’s holding a fucking rocket launcher. Natasha hears a helicopter from outside in which she assumes is here for Pierce.

“We’ll handle them,” Black Widow reassures Winter Soldier, helping him up with a grunt. “Go get Pierce.”

Bucky doesn’t buffer and runs upstairs, leaving the Avengers to handle the goons.

Reaching the unfinished top of the building thanks to his improved speed, Bucky sees a helicopter attempting to lower down to get Pierce. He tosses a knife to the pilot with precision, making the aircraft sway and crash onto the building itself, the floor grumbling and tearing because of incompleteness. Alexander Pierce jumps away from the wreck safely — then he gets yanked by Bucky.

There’s a gun pointed on Pierce’s forehead, the nozzle almost sinking into the man’s skin. Pierce is smiling but there’s a hint of fear in his eyes, sweat trickling down his temple, while Bucky’s brown eyes go dark, a storm brewing within him.

“Was it not enough?” says Pierce, “Everything I gave you.”

“All you gave me was _hell._ My entire life with you was nothing but a nightmare. So fuck _you_. _”_

“You were my greatest asset. If you’d just– if you’d just let me show you–” 

Bucky presses the gun further angrily as Pierce flinches. “If you’d just let me show you what we can do more together! You’re like a _son_ to me, James.”

“No!” Bucky shouts. He’s gripping the gun handle so tight, his hand quivering. His index finger on the trigger twitches. “You manipulated me. Black-mailed me. You threatened my family. I never lived a normal life because of you.”

“You weren’t supposed to live a normal life! Look at you. Good at what you are. A ghost story. A _killer_.”

“Shut up!” Bucky moves away, making sure his gun is still aimed at Pierce. “I’m not gonna let you bring Hydra back. You’re the last person I’ll kill and I’m _done_.”

Pierce shakes his head, disappointed. “You’re not gonna atone anything even if you kill me. What you did was all _you._ Your hands, your guns… What a shame, Winter Soldier.” His gaze ever so slightly moves to look at something behind Bucky. “But you’re right… you’re done.”

Bucky catches on and turns around to see a weakened Nico with a pistol targeted on him. Nico shoots, but Hawkeye grabs his hand in time for the bullet to redirect, hitting Pierce on the chest instead. As Pierce falls to his knees, Bucky sprints to Clint and Nico who are fighting over the weapon. _Come on. Come on, come on, Bucky_ –

A gunshot.

Clint slowly drops to the floor, holding his upper abdomen. 

Nico stares at the body then feels a sudden strong tug to his neck; Natasha tightens the garrote wire around it, dragging the assassin backwards and downwards. Maria Hill enters the scene along with Nick Fury, guns aimed at Nico. He puts his hands up in defeat, gasping for air. 

Just in time for the showdown in the main floor where the present Avengers were obviously outmanned, SHIELD came into aid upon getting the news about people fleeing the bank where Alexander Pierce is. He was only a recent person under monitoring but the commotion was enough for them to respond.

Bucky cradles Clint in his arms, gently caressing his face. 

Clint feels numb everywhere else but feels excruciating pain on his stomach, and he can’t move. He also thinks he just opened his stab wound too, but he can’t think straight either. He looks at the guy holding him, the sun gleaming behind him like a halo. He heaves out, “Winter Soldier?”

Bucky shakes his head. He sobs, finally taking his damaged mask off, showing a smile after. “It’s me. It’s Bucky.”

Bucky’s voice registers into Clint now that it isn’t suppressed. He furrows his brows lightly. “Bucky… it’s you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s been me all along.” Bucky confirms, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done. To you. To Kate. I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you.”

Clint is silent, as if still trying to make things make sense. Bucky is Dos. The Winter Soldier. It was Bucky who stabbed him. He was the one who almost killed him, and killed Andrej. Stern. Countless more. He’s been working for Pierce directly after all.

But it was also Bucky who greeted him good morning every chance he gets. It was him who brought him food when he craved in the middle of the night. It was him who patched Clint up whenever he got hurt from missions unknown to Bucky. It was him who learned how to sign for his cat, who loved Clint’s dog like his own. It was Bucky.

“Bucky…” Clint repeats, like mantra, whispering. There’s a stretcher being pushed towards them now. “I’m not mad at you… I know you think I am. No…”

Bucky shushes Clint. He should conserve his energy. Besides, every word Clint speaks just sends a tear streaming down his eyes. 

“We’re gonna get you help, okay?” Bucky assures as he wipes his face dry, lifting Clint up gently to the stretcher. Bucky lets the SHIELD people take Clint away, guilt eating up his heart. 

Clint’s struggles with his vision, but he didn’t dare look away from Bucky. 

The last thing he sees is Bucky forming up a sign with his thumb, index and pinky fingers, rocking them back and forth faintly. Then he closes his eyes.

“He’s going to be in our custody.” Nick Fury claims as a few people take Nico Constantine into a van at the back. There’s still sirens around the area as well as a few firemen because of the crash earlier. “We’re taking care of the boy too.”

“Wolf Spider is part of the new Hydra, I think. Keep him close and squeeze out information as much as you can from him. Cap might wanna talk to him about it.” Natasha says, holding her slinged arm by the elbow. “Have you seen a woman and a man with skull masks inside?”

Fury purses his lips. “Nope. Why, are they part of it too?”

“Most likely. Sin and Crossbones, look them up from your database if it rings a bell.” 

“Thank you, Natasha. You take care, alright?” Fury says, giving Natasha a gentle arm pat on the good side.

Natasha watches Fury leave along with Maria. She turns around and searches.

A SHIELD agent passes by. Natasha holds her back. “Have you um… seen a guy with long brown hair and black uniform? He’s got a metal arm.”

“Huh.” The SHIELD agent stops to think, ultimately shaking her head. “No… sorry ma’am.”

Natasha nods a couple times as the agent continues her work. Her eyes wander around, settling on a building across the street, curious. There’s a figure at the roof certainly facing her, hair flowing with the wind. A fire truck passes by.

It’s gone.


	11. EPILOGUE.

The smell of pancakes is something that reminds Bucky of home. His mother used to make the best ones, adding the right amount of banana into it. It never fails, perfect everytime. He, however, is the opposite. Despite how much he loves pancakes, it just doesn’t taste right to him when he’s the one who does it. Not to add that he hasn’t really cooked pancakes in a hot minute.

Alpine meows and walks under Bucky, brushing up against his leg before going to the couch. He sits down on his table for two, placing his plate and a mug of coffee in front of him. The smell of coffee… it’s become bittersweet for Bucky. As much as his heart aches, something that he doesn’t think he’ll ever recover from, coffee comforts him like hot chocolate does. Coffee feels like a warm hug, or a deep conversation at midnight with someone you love. Something like that.

He’s been living on his own for about a year and a half now, away from everyone and everything. His childhood friend, Tom, recommended this place. A farm, actually. He works for Tom’s dad, Jim. It’s work far from what he’s known growing up but at least it’s a good kind of dirty. He knows the amount of nice deeds will never equal nor top the amount of bad he’s done in the past. Regardless, Bucky tries to be better, not only for him but for the people who cares about him.

He heard RJ’s in a loving home now with his own family, studying, finally being a kid. Bucky managed to have Rebecca move to Canada after confessing to her. She said she knew there was something when she found cash under her floorboard but she didn’t want to bring it up until Bucky was ready. She said she loves him and that she knows Bucky only did what he can for Pierce to spare her and her family. And Clint… well, Clint is Clint. Or at least that’s what Bucky hopes. He hasn’t seen him since that day. Only on the news from time to time, when Captain America’s having some sort of a speech and the Avengers are lined up behind him. He sees Natasha and Clint, alive and well. He sees Clint wave and smile at the crowd at the end and it sufficed. 

The morning news is on from Bucky’s living room. He carefully slices his breakfast, listening to what the day might bring.

 _“We are here_ live _at the inauguration of the new Avengers in Time Square, New York with Captain America, Iron Man and Thor themselves. We are excitedly welcoming our newest heroes which are revealed to be Patriot, Hulkling, Vision, Hawkeye–”_

The mention of the moniker catches Bucky’s attention, immediately rushing to the television with his coffee, mouth full of pancakes. His eyes dart from every hero on the screen but the person he’s looking for isn’t there. There is a woman in purple holding a bow, and although Bucky senses familiarity with her, that’s not the Hawkeye he knew. However, she must’ve been damn great to get the title bestowed on her like that.

But _where_ is Clint now? Retired? How about the other Avengers? Black Widow?

Bucky takes one big gulp, looking at the heroes and the people celebrating with them. 

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, distracting Bucky. He turns to it but looks back to the TV. Maybe Clint’s somewhere behind, in the crowd, maybe the camera will get a sneak peak of him–

There’s knocking again, so Bucky groans. Who even wants to visit him in this ungodly hour of 10:30 AM? Tom? What does Tom even need? Bucky strides towards the door in irk and swings it open, almost dropping the coffee in his hand.

“Hey,” Clint smiles, tugging the violet backpack behind him. There’s a Toy Story band-aid on the bridge of his nose. He’s got a few more bags at the back and a very excited dog inside his parked car. “I heard you got an extra room?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u so much for sticking w me!!!!!! thank u for reading :,) and i appreciate the kind comments, u are all precious to me!!


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